
HYMNS 
You Ought 
. 10 Know 



Class JE>Va&Q. 
Book ,Q 7— 
GopyiightN 



ONE HUNDRED HYMNS 
YOU OUGHT TO KNOW 



F ONE HAD A HUNDRED HYMNS IN HIS MEMORY, 
AND IF WITH EVERY CHANGING MOOD HE WAS 
ACCUSTOMED TO HAVE TO HIMSELF SOME SWEET 
DESCANT OF EXPERIENCE, HE WOULD NOT EASILY 
BE MADE UNHAPPY, NOR WOULD HE WANDER 
FAR FROM THE PATH OF RECTITUDE. 

— HENRY WARD BEECHER. 



One Hundred Hymns 
Tou Ought to Know 

EDITED BY 

HENRY F. COPE 




Chicago New York Toronto 
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 

London Edinburgh 



Copyright, igo6 
By FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

NOV 6 1906 

-y. Cepyrifht Entry 

, I, 'f6(o 
CLASS A, XXc„No. 



Cordial acknowledgment is tendered the editors of " The 
Chicago Tribune" for permission to publish in permanent form 
this collection, which appeared first in that journal. 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



PREFACE 



FEW things in literature exert a greater 
power over us than good hymns ; they are 
to be counted as amongst the most potent 
factors in religious nurture. They are to 
very large numbers of people all that the Hebrew 
Psalms were to a smaller number. Religious truth, 
which in the form of syllogism or sermon would 
have failed to find welcome in the mind, has 
entered freely and been fully apprehended when 
presented in the form of the sentiment of hymns 
and on the wings of their metres. Many a heart, 
in the trying hour of fear or doubt, has suddenly 
discovered light on the way, — light radiating from 
some line or stanza of a hymn that had long lain 
in memory. The hymns of the English-speaking 
people have done more to mould their characters 
than all the sermons spoken or written. 

Did you ever find yourself repeating over and 
over a sentence from a book or a sermon, find 
such a sentence gradually working forward, as it 
were, from the margin of consciousness to the 

_____ 



focus of attention ? Not often. Yet how fre- 
quently have lines and stanzas of hymns thus 
stolen in on our field of thought, the same truth 
coming again and again in this manner and every 
time deepening its impression, its power over the 
mind and will, and increasing the facility of its 
entrance. 

Teachers of men, especially the teachers of the 
young, fully appreciate the importance of storing 
the mind with reserves of strength and soul 
nourishment, with aspirations that lift up the eyes 
of the heart and ideals that lead. In seeking 
these sources of soul strength the questions must 
often occur, First, where may one find them in 
their noblest and richest form ? and, Second, in 
what form will they find readiest admission to the 
mind and exert the largest and most lasting influ- 
ence ? There will be no hesitancy in answering 
the first by saying that nowhere are there greater 
riches of the life in the form of literature than in 
the Bible ; the second question finds answer, both 
\in reason and experience, that the splendid literary 
riches of the Bible set into the form of our great 
hymns then find their easiest vehicle into the mind 
and have their greatest potency. Our hymns are 
but the old songs of the Hebrew, the aspirations, 
visions, passions, and inspirations of the great 
religious teachers resung, set again into the forms 
to which we are accustomed. Religious truth in 
the form of hymns is so highly valuable because 
the hymns are easily learned ; they are associated 
usually with inspiring tunes, with melodies often 



[vi] 



that sing them back again and again to the mind, 
and because thus storing themselves in memory's 
treasury they come out automatically, perhaps, in 
some hour when the soul is feeling its spiritual 
poverty, a rich asset, to remind the soul of its yet 
greater unseen resources. 

We do well then, seeing the power of these 
hymns, to exercise no little care in the selection 
of those with which children and youth shall be- 
come familiar. This is that which has been in 
mind in the selection of these " Hymns You 
Ought to Know," the bringing together of at least 
one hundred of those hymns which may be 
counted of greatest worth and force on account 
of their power for spiritual nurture, for character 
determination. There must be always wide dif- 
ference of opinion as to what are the very best! 
hymns. But there is certainly one safe test, viz., 
what hymns have, through a course of at least 
some time, shown themselves to be best 
capable of expressing the ideals and worship of 
the people, stirring their emotions and aspirations 
and strengthening their inner lives. The song 
which leaps into popularity and sweeps, whirlwind 
like, over the country may meet none of these 
requirements. But the song that the people sing 
year after year, that they sing in the hour of trial, 
in the quietude of evening, by the hearthside, in 
the cathedral — the song that is sung because it 
satisfies, strengthens, inspires, this is the one that 
all our people need to know. 

These, we are told, are the days when mate- 



[vii] 



rialism is eating the heart out of men, when the 
family altar stands neglected or overthrown in 
the rush for the office, when the eye ceases to 
look up. The outlook is not so dark as some 
who hide their faces would have us believe ; but 
it is a day when, by every power at our command, 
we need to bring the hearts of men back to things 
that are eternal ; back from their dust and toys to 
the deep things, the infinite and only satisfying. 
Into our fevered lives there needs to come often 
the voices of calm, the songs of the spirit; into 
our hearts we need to admit all we may find that 
will serve to remind us that the things seen are 
passing, the things unseen abiding, to bring us the 
strength to meet each day's strain. What, in 
this, can help more, leaving out of estimate the 
sources of our religious literature, than a collec- 
tion of the very best types of that form of religious 
literature which enters the mind most easily, stays 
longest, speaks clearest, and with largest character 
potency ? 

HENRY F. COPE. 

Chicago, 1906. 



[viii] 




CONTENTS 



Abide with Me . . . . . 


Lyte . . . . 


• J 53 


Angel's Song, The .... 


Sears .... 


. 169 


Armies of the Ransomed, The . 


J ford. . . . 


. 185 


Art Thou Weary .... 


Neale . . . . 


• H3 


Ascending King, The 


Wordsworth . 


• l 99 




How . 


17 


Awake, My Soul .... 


Ken .. . . 


• 95 


Battle Hymn of the Republic . 


Howe . . . . 


. 191 




Brooks 


• 173 


Better Life, The 


Muhlenberg . 


21 


Blest Be the Tie That Binds . 


Fawcett . . 


81 


Blind Man's Song, The . . 


Matheson . 


. 119 




Wesley 


. 181 


Christian's Glory, The . 


Grigg . . . . 


. 67 


Come, Thou Almighty King 


Anonymous 


. 141 


Consecration Hymn, A . 


Havergal . 


. 65 




Moore . 


9 




Warner . 


. 149 




Baxter 


• 83 




Perronet . 


. 145 


Cross of Christ, The 


Bowring . 


• 5i 




W or ds worth . 


. 159 



[ix] 



Disciple's Prayer, A . 


Bode 


189 


j 


Ellerton .... 


IOI 


Easter Hymn, An 


Wesley .... 


103 


Ein Feste Burg 


Luther .... 


I c 1 

J 


Faith of Our Fathers . . , 


Paber 




Firm Foundation, The . 


Anonymous 


16c 
3 


Fling Out the Banner 


Doane 


1 c 

j 


Fount of Blessing, The . 


Robinson .... 


73 


Glory to Thee, My God 


Ken ..... 


I 2C 


God is Love . 


Bowri?ig 


O J 




Procter .... 


121 


Green Hill Far Away, The 


Alexander . . . 


2 X 




Williams .... 


37 


Harvest Home 


Alford 




Holy, Holy, Holy . . . . 


Heber 


I 27 

/ 


Jerusalem, IVIy Happy Home . 


Montgomery ... 


OQ 

yy 


Jerusalem, the Golden . . . 


Bernard and Neale 


I 7 c 

1 J 


Jesu, Dulce Memoria 


Bernard of Clairvaux 


3 I 

J 


Tpsiiq T.nvpr nf IVTv Snnl 


TVesley .... 


I C7 
1 j I 


Tust As I Am 


Elliott 


87 


Just For To-Day . 


W^ilberforce . . . 


X c 


King of Love, The . 


Baker 


61 


Lead, Kindly Light . 


Newman .... 


121 


"Let There Be Light" . . 


Marriott .... 


155 


Lord of All Being . . . . 


Holmes .... 


93 


Love Divine 


Wesley .... 


183 




Francis Xavier . 


13 


Love of God, The . 


Faber 


49 


Messiah's Kingdom . 


Watts 


9 1 




Pope 


53 


Missionary Hymn, The 


Heber 


167 


Missionary Success . 


Hastings .... 


131 



[*] 



Morning Aspiration . . Von Canity, . . . 207 

Morning Hymn, A . Keble 137 

My Faith Looks up to Thee . Palmer . . . . 147 

Name Above All Others, The . Newton .... 41 

National Hymn Smith 139 

Nearer Home . . . . . Gary 89 

Nearer, My God, to Thee . . Adams . . . . 193 

New Year, The Doddridge. ... 59 

Ninety and Nine, The . . . Clephane and Sankey . 1 1 1 

Noble Army, The .... Heber 171 

Onward, Christian Soldiers . . Baring-Gould . . 201 

One Foundation, The . . . Stone 197 

O, Sacred Head Bernard of Clairvaux 205 

Our God, Our Help in Ages Past Waits 115 

Our Master Wbittier . . . . 105 

O, Worship the King . . . Grant 71 

Paradise Faber 109 

Parting Prayer, A Faber 75 

Perfect Peace Bicker steth . . . 107 

Pilgrims of the Night, The . . Faber 187 

Providence Cowper . . . . 135 

Rescue the Perishing . . . Crosby . . . . 113 

Resignation Hagenbach . . . 163 

Retirement Brown .... 39 

Rock of Ages Toplady .... 11 

Seeking to Serve Havergal .... 19 

Service of Man, The . . . North 55 

Shepherd Psalm, The . . . Rous 63 

Simple Way, The .... Waring . . . . 195 

Soldiers of the Cross, The . . Duffield . . . . 161 

" Star of the East " . . . . Heber 57 

Still, Still with Thee . ■ . . Stowe 29 



[xi] 



Sun of My Soul Keble 117 

Te Deum Laudamus . . . Anonymous . . . 177 

Thy Will Be Done .... Elliott 129 

To Our Fatherland . . . . Von Zinzendcrf . 97 

Traveler's Hymn, The . . . Addison .... 25 

Up Hill Rossetti .... 33 

Vesper Hymn Lathbury .... 77 

Voice of Jesus, The .... Bonar 79 

Victorious Army, The . . . How 203 

Walking with God .... Gladden .... 85 

Warrior's March, The . . . Moultrie .... 47 

Warrior's Song, The . . . Plumptre .... 27 

Wondrous Cross, The . . . Watts 69 

Way of Peace, The .... Whit tier . . . . 179 



[xii] 



ONE HUNDRED HYMNS 
YOU OUGHT TO KNOW 



[7] 




TlIOMAS MOORE (Dublin, May 28, 
I 779 — Bermuda, W. I. Feb. 26, 1853), 
the celebrated Irish poet and singer of love 
songs, was also the writer of about thirty hymns. 
"These were published in 1816, and among 
them, under the title of " Relief in Prayer," is 
found the beautiful hymn which is to-day so 
often sung on occasions of mourning. While 
few, if any, of Moore' s poems retain the place 
they once held in popular appreciation, and 
almost all his other hymns are forgotten, the 
comforting thought in this poem has given it a 
place of permanency along with the other great 
English hymns. 



CiOME, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish ; 

Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel ; 
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your 
anguish, 

Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. 

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying, 
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure ; 

Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying, 
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure. 

Here see the Bread of Life ; see waters flowing 
Forth from the throne of God, pure from 
above ; 

Come to the feast of love ; come, ever knowing 
Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove. 




THOMAS MOORE 

c7] 



Augustus Montague topladt 

(Farnham, Surrey , England \ Nov. 4, 1740 
— London, Aug. 4, I 77^) graduated from 
Trinity, Dublin. After fourteen years in the 
English Episcopal ministry, he left that church 
to become pastor of the French Calvinists. 
This universal hymn is found in almost as many 
tongues as the Bible itself, probably over JOO. 
Mr. Gladstone translated it into Latin, Greek, 
and Italian. It is said that the brave General 
Stuart, wounded before Richmond, died with 
this hymn on his lips, and the same is related 
of the prince consort of England. When the 
London went down in the bay of Biscay in 
1866 the last thing heard was the passengers 
singing " Rock of Ages' 1 Many changes 
have crept into this hymn, but the following is 

probably exactly as Top lady wrote it in I J J 6 : 

__ 



ROCK OF AGES 



Rock of Ages, cleft for me ! 

Let me hide myself in thee ; 

Let the water and the blood, 

From thy wounded side that flowed, 

Be of sin the double cure ; 

Cleanse me from its guilt and power. 

Not the labor of my hands 
Can fulfill the law's demands ; 
Could my zeal no respite know, 
Could my tears forever flow, 
All for sin could not atone ; 
Thou must save, and thou alone. 

Nothing in my hand I bring, 
Simply to thy cross I cling; 
Naked, come to thee for dress, 
Helpless, look to thee for grace ; 
Vile, I to the fountain fly, 
Wash me, Savior, or I die! 

While I draw this fleeting breath, 
When my eyelids close in death, 
When I soar to worlds unknown, 
See thee on thy judgment throne, 
Rock of Ages, cleft for me ! 
Let me hide myself in thee. 



AUGUSTUS M. TOPLADY 



[»] 



FRANCIS XAVIER (Navarre, Spain, 
April 7, I J 06 — Island of Sancian, Dec. 2, 
1552), the famous Spanish missionary, the 
apostle to the Indians, and one of the founders 
of the Society of Jesus. He labored inces- 
santly in carrying the Gospel to many lands 
and died on his way to China. It is thought 
that he translated this hymn from the Spanish 
into the Latin. From the latter it was 
translated into English by Edward Caswall. 



[«] 



LOVE FOR GOD 



My God , I love thee, not because 
I hope for heaven thereby, 

Nor yet because, if I love not, 
I must forever die. 

Thou, O my Jesus, thou didst me 

Upon the cross embrace : 
For me didst bear the nails, and spear, 

And manifold disgrace. 

Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ, 
Should I not love thee well ? 

Not for the hope of winning heaven, 
Nor of escaping hell ; 

Not with the hope of gaining aught, 

Not seeking a reward ; 
But as thyself hast loved me, 

O ever-loving Lord ! 

So would I love thee, dearest Lord, 
And in thy praise will sing; 

Solely because thou art my God, 
And my eternal King. 



FRANCIS XAVIER 



The Rev. George Washington Doane 
[Trenton, N. J. 9 May 2J, 1 7 99 — 
Burlington, N. J., April 27, 1859), 
Protestant Episcopal bishop of New Jer- 
sey, was a prolific writer and the author 
of a number of hymns. His works of 
prose and poetry, in four volumes, were 
published in i860. This missionary 
hymn was written at Riverside in 1848. 



FLING OUT THE BANNER 



FlING out the banner ! Let it float 
Skyward and seaward, high and wide ; 

The sun, that lights its shining folds, 
The cross on which the Savior died. 

Fling out the banner ! Angels bend 
In anxious silence o'er the sign, 

And vainly seek to comprehend 
The wonder of the love divine. 

Fling out the banner ! Heathen lands 
Shall see from far the giorious sight, 

And nations crowding to be born 
Baptize their spirits in its light. 

Fling out the banner ! Sin sick souls, 
That sink and perish in the strife, 

Shall touch in faith its radiant hem, 
And spring immortal into life. 

Fling out the banner ! Let it float 
Skyward and seaward, high and wide ; 

Our glory, only in the cross ; 
Our only hope, the Crucified ! 

Fling out the banner ! Wide and high 
Seaward and skyward let it shine ; 

Nor skill, nor might, nor merit ours ; 
We conquer only in that sign. 



a 



GEORGE 



WASHINGTON DOANE 



OS] 



William walsham how, bishop 

of Bedford, was born at Shrewsbury, Eng- 
land, Dec. ij, 1823. His best work as a 
minister of the Church of England was done at 
Kidderminster and later amongst the destitute 
in the Last End, London. Although he did not 
begin to publish his poetical compositions until 
he was well advanced in years, his hymns are 
already well known, a number of them being 
found in all the standard hymnals. In the Eng- 
lish church his songs for children have been 
acceptable. But in all lands the one given 
here is by far the most popular of all his com- 
positions. It is usually sung to the tune of 
"St. Hilda." Its theme is beautifully illus- 
trated in Holm an Hunt's celebrated painting, 
"The Light of the World." 



[16] 



AT THE DOOR 



O JESUS, thou art standing 

Outside the fast closed door, 
In lowly patience waiting 

To pass the threshold o'er; 
We bear the name of Christians, 

His name and sign we bear ; 
O shame, thrice shame upon us, 

To keep him standing there ! 

O Jesus, thou art knocking; 

And Jo ! that hand is scarred, 
And thorns thy brow encircle, 

And tears thy face have marred ; 
O love that passeth knowledge/ 

So patiently to wait ; 
O sin that hath no equal, 

So fast to bar the gate. 

O Jesus, thou art pleading 

In accents meek and low — 
" I died for you, my children, 

And will ye treat me so ? " 
O Lord, with shame and sorrow 

We open now the door; 
Dear Savior, enter, enter, 

And leave us nevermore ! 



WILLIAM WALSHAM HOW 



[17] 



AflSS HAVERGAL wrote more hymns 
which have attained wide popularity and give 
promise of permanency than any other woman 
writer. From the years of her childhood she 
had the gift of poetic expression. Her longer 
poems, all of which are of a religious character, 
are popular with the English people. This hymn 
was written in 1 8 J 2, and first published in a 
leaflet, whence it found its way rapidly into all 
the hymnals. 



[18] 



SEEKING TO SERVE 



JLrfORD, speak to me, that I may speak 

In living echoes of thy tone ; 
As thou has sought, so let me seek 

Thy erring children, lost and lone. 

O, strengthen me, that while I stand 
Firm on the rock, and strong in thee, 

I may stretch out a loving hand 
To wrestlers with the troubled sea. 

O, teach me, Lord, that I may teach 
The precious things thou dost impart ; 

And wing my words that they may reach 
The hidden depths of many a heart. 

O, give thine own sweet rest to me, 
That I may speak with soothing power 

A word in season, as from thee, 
To weary ones in needful hour. 

O, fill me with thy fullness, Lord, 

Until my very heart o'erflow 
In kindling thought and glowing word, 

Thy love to tell, thy praise to show. 

O, use me, Lord, use even me, 

Just as thou wilt, and when, and where, 
Until thy blessed face I see, 

Thy rest, thy joy, thy glory share. 



FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL 
[19] 




TlIE Rev. William Augustus Muhlenberg 
(Philadelphia, Sept. 16, Ijg6 — New York, 
April 8 y 1877 J, a noted Episcopalian minister, 
especially distinguished for his work in founding 
St. Luke's Hospital in New York, is the author 
of several hymns. While this hymn usually is 
classified as suitable for occasions of mourning, 
its thought has made it popular as a song of 
aspiration at all ti?nes. Until recently it was 
not found in any hymnal ; but it now is coming 
into common use. 



[zo] 



I WOULD not live alway; I ask not to stay- 
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way ; 
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here 
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its 
cheer, 

I would not live alway ; no, welcome the tomb ! 
Since Jesus hath lain there I dread not its gloom ; 
There sweet be my rest till he bid me arise, 
To hail him in triumph descending the skies. 

Who, who would live alway, away from his God? 
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, 
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright 
plains, 

And the noontide of glory eternatly reigns ; 

Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, 
Their Savior and brethren transported to greet ; 
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, 
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul. 



WILLIAM AUGUSTUS MUHLENBERG 



TlIIS gifted woman wrote many beautiful 
hymns. She intended the?n for the use of little 
children, but some of them have become popular 
with adults. Mrs. Alexander was born in 
County Wicklow, Ireland, in 1818 ; she 
married Dr. William Alexander, bishop of 
Derry ; she died Oct. 12, i8q$, at London- 
derry. Besides her hymns she wrote a number 
of poems, the best known of them all being 
"The Burial of Moses r 



THE GREEN HILL FAR AWAY 

1 



A HERE is a green hill far away, 

Without a city wall, 
Where the dear Lord was crucified, 

Who died to save us ail. 
We may not know, we cannot tell 

What pains he had to bear; 
But we believe it was for us 

He hung and suffered there. 

He died that we might be forgiven, 

He died to make us good, 
That we might go at last to heaven, 

Saved by his precious blood. 
There was no other good enough 

To pay the price of sin ; 
He only could unlock the gate 

Of heaven, and let us in. 

O, dearly, dearly has he loved, 

And we must love him, too, 
And trust in his redeeming blood, 

And try his works to do. 
For there 's a green hill far away, 

Without a city wall, 
Where the dear Lord was crucified, 

Who died to save us all. 



CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER 



jfoSEPH ADDISON (Milston, Wiltshire, 
England, May I, i6j2 — London, Jwie if, 
I Jig), one of the greatest of all writers of 
English prose, was the author of five hymns, all 
of which have been considered worthy a place 
in the permanent songs of worship of the church. 
This hymn is said to have been composed on 
returning from a perilous voyage on the Medi- 
terranean in the year I J 00, but it was not 
published until twelve years later, when it ap- 
peared in "The Spectator'' as part of an essay 
on the subject of " The Sea" 



[*43 



THE TRAVELER'S HYMN 



How are thy servants blest, O Lord ! 

How sure is their defence ! 
Eternal wisdom is their guide, 

Their help, omnipotence. 
In foreign realms, and lands remote, 

Supported by thy care, 
Through burning climes they pass unhurt, 

And breathe in tainted air. 

When by the dreadful tempest borne 

High on the broken wave, 
They know thou art not slow to hear, 

Nor impotent to save. 
The storm is laid, the winds retire, 

Obedient to thy will ; 
The sea, that roars at thy command, 

At thy command is still. 

In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths, 

Thy goodness we '11 adore ; 
We '11 praise thee for thy mercies past, 

And humbly hope for more. 
Our life, while thou preserv'st that life, 

Thy sacrifice shall be ; 
And death, when death shall be our lot, 

Shall join our souls to thee. 



The Rev. Edward Hayes Plumptre, D.D. 
("London, Aug. 6, 1821 — Wells, Feb. 1, 
i8qi ), belongs to the school of modern hymn 
writers, his songs dealing with the living and 
the active. He was famed not only as a grace- 
ful preacher, but also as a writer of many 
books. This hy?nn was written in l '865, for 
the Choir Festival of Peterborough Cathedral. 
It is the most popular of all Dr. Plumptre' s 
hymns. 



[*6] 



THE WARRIOR'S SONG 



JXEJOICE, ye pure in heart ! 

Rejoice, give thanks, and sing ! 
Your glorious banner wave on high, 

The cross of Christ your King ! 

Still lift your standard high ! 

Still march in firm array ! 
As warriors, through the darkness toil, 

Till dawns the golden day ! 

At last the march shall end ; 

The wearied ones shall rest ; 
The pilgrims find their Fathers house, 

Jerusalem the blest. 

Then on, ye pure in heart ! 

Rejoice, give thanks, and sing ! 
Your glorious banner wave on high, 

The cross of Christ your King ! 



EDWARD HAYES PLUMPTRE 




Harriet Elizabeth beecher 

ST OWE (Litchfield, Conn., June 14, 18 1 1 
— Hartford, Conn., July 1, 1896). While 
the fame of Mrs. Stowe will always rest on her 
first novel, " Uncle Tom's Cabin," she is the 
author of three hymns which have passed into 
general use. "Resting in God" as this one 
was first called, made its appearance in 1855 
in the Plymouth Collection, a hymnal prepared 
by her celebrated brother, Henry Ward Beecher, 
for use in his services. While perhaps hardly 
ranking among the foremost hymns, it is found 
to-day in all the great collections. It is espe- 
cially suited to smaller gatherings and to family 
devotions. 



[z8] 



It 



STILL, STILL WITH THEE 



StILL, still with thee, when purple morning 
breaketh, 

When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee ; 
Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight, 
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with thee. 

Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows, 
The solemn hush of nature newly born ; 

Alone with thee, in breathless adoration, 
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn. 

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber, 
Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer; 

Sweet the repose, beneath thy wings o'ershadowing, 
But sweeter still to wake and find thee there. 

So shall it be at last in that bright morning 
When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee ; 

O, in that hour, and fairer than day's dawning, 
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with thee ! 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 



This was one of the hymns of the second cru- 
sade ; its fifty Latin stanzas were sung by the 
knights of the cross as they guarded the holy 
sepulchre. Bernard (Fontaines, Burgundy ', 
iogi — Clairvaux, Aug. 20 , II 53) 'was the 
author of a number of the hymns which in their 
modern dress are amongst the most popular to- 
day. He was the abbot of Clairvaux from 
1 11 jr to the time of his death, leading an active 
life and exerting a profound influence on Euro- 
pean politics. Many translations of his hymns 
are current, but the one most generally accepted 
is that given here, which first appeared in 
6 6 Lyra Catholic a" in 184Q. It is the work 
of the Rev. Edward Caswall, an English 
clergyman, who became the friend and adherent 
of Cardinal Newman. 



[30] 



m 
i 



JESU, DULCE MEMORIA 



JeSUS, the very thought of thee, 
With sweetness fills the breast : 

But sweeter far thy face to see, 
And in thy presence rest. 

No voice can sing, no heart can frame, 

Nor can the memory find 
A sweeter sound than thy blest name, 

O Savior of mankind ! 

O Hope of every contrite heart ! 

O Joy of all the meek ! 
To those who fall, how kind thou art ! 

How good to those who seek ! 

But what to those who find? Ah ! this. 

Nor tongue nor pen can show, 
The love of Jesus, what it is, 

None but his loved ones know. 

Jesus, our only joy be thou, 

As thou our prize wilt be ; 
Jesus, be thou our glory now, 

And through eternity. 




BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 



ThE sister of Dante Gabriel Rossetti was 
born in London, Dec, 5, 18 JO, and died in the 
same city Dec. jo, 1894. She was a lyric 
poet of a high order and amongst her verses are 
found many of a charming simplicity, as well 
as others of simple devotion and aspiration. 
The song, with its quaint questions and answers, 
given here, perhaps hardly belongs in a collec- 
tion of hymns, for it has not attained any wide 
popularity or general use in the churches. Tet 
it so beautifully voices the hope, often silent and 
hidden, in all our hearts and comes so near to a 
song that all may sing, that it deserves to be one 
of the hymns we all know. 



[3*] 



UP HILL 



Does the road wind up hill all the way ? 

Yes, to the very end. 
Will the day's journey take the whole long day ? 

From morn to night, my friend. 

But is there for the night a resting-place ? 

A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. 
May not the darkness hide it from my face ? 

You cannot miss that inn. 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night ? 

Those who have gone before. 
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight ? 

They will not keep you standing at the door. 

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak ? 

Of labor you shall find the sum. 
Will there be beds for me and all who seek ? 

Yea, beds for all who come. 



cm 

CHRISTINA GEORGIN A ROSSETTI 




The author of this hymn is a descendant of 
the great William Wilberforce the philanthropist y 
and a son of Samuel Wilberforce, the bishop 
of Oxford, and later of Winchester, He was 
born in 1 8 40 and became canon of Winchester 
in 18 J 8 and, later, bishop of Newcastle. This is 
his only hymn which has attained popularity, and 
this has been of recent growth. It was written 
for a morning prayer at private devotions. 



[34] 



JUST FOR T O-D A Y 



JL/ORD, for to-morrow and its needs 

I do not pray ; 
Keep me, my God, from stain of sin 

Just for to-day. 
Help me to labor earnestly 

And duly pray ; 
Let me be kind in word and deed 

Father, to-day. 

Let me no wrong or idle word 

Unthinking say ; 
Set thou a seal upon my lips 

Through all to-day. 
Let me in season, Lord, be grave, 

In season gay ; 
Let me be faithful to thy grace, 

Dear Lord, to-day. 

And if, to-day, this life of mine 

Should ebb away, 
Give me thy sacrament divine. 

Father, to-day. 
So for to-morrow and its needs 

I do not pray ; 
Still keep me, guide me, love me, Lord, 

Through each to-day. 



ERNEST R. WILBERFORCE 



[35] 




T^HE Rev. William Williams (Cefn-y-Coed, 
Wales, i 7 if — Pontycelyn, Jan. II, ijgi ) 
was one of the earliest of the great group of 
Welsh hymn singers. Their songs are not 
always easily rendered into English, but this 
one, translated by Pedr Williams in Iffly has 
become a classic in many other tongues besides. 
Its author was at first a deacon in the English 
church, but he spent the greater part of his life 
as a traveling evangelist for the Welsh Cal- 
vinistic Methodist Connection. The full force 
and beauty of this hymn cannot be realized 
unless one has heard it pealing forth from the 
mighty lungs of the Welsh people at some church 
gathering where the whole congregation sings as 
though that were their sole business in life. 



[36] 



GUIDANCE 



GrUIDE me, O thou great Jehovah, 
Pilgrim thro* this barren land ; 

I am weak, but thou art mighty, 
Hold me with thy pow'rful hand ; 

Bread of heaven, 
Feed me till I want no more. 

Open now the crystal fountain 

Whence the healing streams do flow; 

Let the fiery, cloudy pillar 

Lead me all my journey through : 

Strong Deliverer, 
Be thou my strength and shield. 

When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
Bid my anxious fears subside ; 

Death of death and heirs destruction, 
Land me safe on Canaan's side : 

Songs of praises 
I will ever give to thee. 



WILLIAM WILLIAMS 



[37] 



Mrs. phcebe hinsdale brown 

was born at Canaan, N. T., May /, 1783, 
and after living the quiet, retired life we might 
expect from the tone of the hymn, died at Henry, 
III., Oct. io, 1861. She was a woman of a 
dreamy, idealistic temperament , the writer of 
a number of introspective poems. This hymn 
is the only one of her works remaining to this 
day. It had a wide popularity, especially with 
a generation now rapidly passing away. There 
are many who can remember when it was one 
of the most general favorites amongst hymns. 
Its waning popularity is fairly indicative of 
the changed emphasis in religious worship. 




[38] 



RETIREMENT 



I LOVE to steal awhile away 
From every cumbering care, 

And spend the hours of setting day 
In humble, grateful prayer. 

I love in solitude to shed 

The penitential tear, 
And all his promises to plead, 

Where none but God can hear. 

I love to think on mercies past, 

And future good implore, 
And all my cares and sorrows cast 

On him whom I adore. 

I love by faith to take a view 
Of brighter scenes in heaven; 

The prospect doth my strength renew, 
While here by tempests driven. 

Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er, 

May its departing ray 
Be calm as this impressive hour, 

And lead to endless day. 



PHCEBE HINSDALE BROWN 



[39] 



IN the Church of St. Mary Woolnoth, London, 
there is this inscription: "John Newton, clerk, 
once an infidel and libertine, a servant of slaves 
in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord 
and Savior, Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, 
pardoned, and appointed to preach the faith he 
had long labored to destroy, near sixteen years at 
Olney, in Buck ; and — years in this church." 
This is the brief autobiography of the man who 
wrote this hymn, which ranks among the best 
loved of all the songs of the Christian church. 
He was born in London July 24, 1725, and 
there he died on Dec. 24, I So/. He wrote 
many other hymns, but had this been his only 
composition his name would never be forgotten. 



[40] 



THE NAME ABOVE ALL OTHERS 



How sweet the name of Jesus sounds 

In a believer's ear ! 
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, 

And drives away his fear. 

It makes the wounded spirit whole, 
And calms the troubled breast ; 

'T is manna to the hungry soul, 
And to the weary rest. 

Dear name ! the rock on which I build, 

My shield and hiding-place, 
My never-failing treasury, filled 

With boundless stores of grace. 

Weak is the effort of my heart, 
And cold my warmest thought; 

But when I see thee as thou art, 
I '11 praise thee as I ought. 

Till then, I would thy love proclaim 

With every fleeting breath ; 
And may the music of thy name 

Refresh my soul in death. 



JOHN NEWTON 



[4i J 



TlIIS is another of Faber's great hymns which 
have become the possession of peoples of all com- 
munions. The spirited manner in which this 
hymn is sung by great congregations seems to 
indicate that the fire that burned in the martyrs 1 
breasts has not died out entirely. Such hymns 
as this were popular in England during the 
recent struggle for the freedom of the public 
schools from ecclesiastical control and frequently 
were sung at popular meetings as well as at 
religious services in the free churches. 



[42] 



FAITH OF OUR FATHERS 

, 



FaITH of our fathers ! living still 
In spite of dungeon, fire, and sword; 

O how our hearts beat high with joy 
Whene'er we hear that glorious word ! 

Faith of our fathers ! holy faith ! 

We will be true to thee till death! 

Our fathers, chained in prisons dark, 
Were still in heart and conscience free ; 

How sweet would be their children's fate, 
If they, like them, could die for thee 1 

Faith of our fathers ! holy faith! 

We will be true to thee till death ! 

Faith of our fathers ! we will love 
Both friend and foe in all our strife : 

And preach thee, too, as love knows how, 
By kindly words and virtuous life: 

Faith of our fathers ! holy faith ! 

We will be true to thee till death! 



FREDERICK W. FABER 



This song might well be called the " Thanh- 
giving Hymn" of the English people. It was 
written in 1 8 44. by the Rev. Henry A If or d, 
D. D. (London, Oct. 7, 18 1 — Canterbury, 
Jan, 12, 187 1 ). He was then dean of 
Canterbury cathedral, a post which he held 
until his death. A If or d is well known, both 
as a preacher and a writer. His " Greek 
Testament " was for many years a standard 
work. He is also the author of several fine 
hymns. In English churches this hymn is 
always sung at the harvest home services, which 
correspond to our Thanksgiving day gatherings. 
It has also come into common use in the church 
services on our national day of praise. It is 
usually sung to the tune of 66 St. George," com- 
posed by George J. Elvery. 



[44] 



HARVEST HOME 



C«OME, ye thankful people, come, 
Raise the song of harvest home ! 
All is safely gathered in, 
Ere the winter storms begin : 
God, our Maker, doth provide 
For our wants to be supplied : 
Come to God's own temple, come, 
Raise the song of harvest home. 

We ourselves are God's own field, 
Fruit unto his praise to yield ; 
Wheat and tares together sown 
Unto joy or sorrow grown ; 
First the blade, and then the ear ; 
Then the full corn shall appear ; 
Lord of harvest ! grant that we 
Wholesome grain and pure may be. 

For the Lord our God shall come, 
And shall take his harvest home ; 
From his field shall purge away 
All that doth offend that day ; 
Give his angels charge at last 
In the fire the tares to cast ; 
But the fruitful ears to store 
In his garner evermore. 



DEAN HENRY ALFORD 



[45] 




The Rev. Gerald Moultrie (London, Eng- 
land, Dec. ji, 1799 — Rugby* Dec. 20, 
1 87 4 ), a graduate of Trinity, Cambridge, and 
the rector, during the years of his ministry, of 
Rugby, was the writer of a number of poems 
of a high literary value and beauty. This pro- 
cessional hymn was published in 1867. It is 
a good example of the new type of church songs 
in which service, activity, and the milita?it ideas 
are expressed. To the setting of Barnbf s tune, 
" Great Heart" it is sung, as the opening hymn 
frequently, while it is one of the most popular 
processionals in university and college services. 



[46] 




THE WARRIOR'S MARCH 



w 




E march, we march to victory, 
With the cross of the Lord before us, 
With his loving eye looking down from the sky, 
And his holy arm spread o'er us. 

We come in the might of the Lord of light, 

A joyful host to meet him : 
And we put to flight the armies of night, 

That the sons of the day may greet him. 

We march, we march to victory, 

With the cross of the Lord before us, 

With his loving eye looking down from the sky, 
And his holy arm spread o'er us. 

Our sword is the spirit of God on high, 

Our helmet is his salvation, 
Our banner, the cross of Calvary, 

Our watchword, the Incarnation. 

And the choir of angels with song awaits 

Our march to the golden Zion ; 
For our captain has broken the brazen gates, 

And burst the bars of iron. 

Then onward we march, our arms to prove, 
With the banner of Christ before us, 

With his eye of love looking down from above, 
And his holy arm spread o'er us. 




GERALD MOULTRIE 



[47] 




Frederick william faber 

( 1814-1863 J, the devout Catholic and head of 
the Brompton Oratory, was the author of many 
fine hymns of devotion. As a student he dis- 
tinguished hi?nself at Ba/Iiol, Oxford, whence 
he was graduated in 18 36, and his en- 
thusiastic, poetic temperament made him a 
marked man all through his life. For a time 
he was a rector in the English church, but in 
1846 he gave himself to the Roman Catholic 
church and became one of its most conspicuous 
figures in London. In no song of worship is 
there a more catholic spirit than in this one ; 
doubtless this accounts for its phenomenal leap 
into popularity. At first the theologians looked 
askance upon it, but the people found it and 
insisted on its place in all the hymnals and its 
frequent use in public worship. 



[48] 



THE LOVE OF GOD 



There's a wideness in God's mercy- 
Like the wideness of the sea ; 

There 's a kindness in his justice, 
Which is more than liberty. 

There is plentiful redemption 

In the blood that has been shed; 

There is joy for all the members 
In the sorrows of the Head. 

Was there ever kindest shepherd 

Half so gentle, half so sweet 
As the Savior who would have us 

Come and gather round his feet? 
It is God ; his love looks mighty, 

But is mightier than it seems ; 
'Tis our Father; and his fondness 

Goes far out beyond our dreams. 

For the love of God is broader 

Than the measure of man's mind ; 
And the heart of the Eternal 

Is most wonderfully kind. 
If our love were but more simple, 

We should take him at his word ; 
And our lives would be all sunshine 

In the sweetness of our Lord. 



FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER, D.D. 



[49] 



SlR JOHN BO WRING, the author of 
many beautiful hymns, is said to have known 
over one hundred different tongues and to have 
been able to converse in many of them. He 
translated into English the folk-lore and songs 
of many nations. His best known hymn is 
given here. It was published in his collection 
of hymns in 1828, and has maintained a wide 
popularity almost ever since, being an especial 
favorite in young people ' s meetings. Perhaps 
it owes its place in no small measure to the tune 
" Rathbun," composed by I. Conkey. 



[so] 




THE CROSS OF CHRIST 



In the cross of Christ I glory, 
Towering o'er the wrecks of time ; 

All the light of sacred story 

Gathers round its head sublime. 

When the woes of life o'ertake me, 
Hopes deceive, and fears annoy, 

Never shall the cross forsake me : 
Lo ! it glows with peace and joy. 

When the sun of bliss is beaming 
Light and love upon my way, 

From the cross the radiance streaming, 
Adds new lustre to the day. 

Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure, 
By the cross are sanctified ; 

Peace is there, that knows no measure, 
Joys that through all time abide. 

In the cross of Christ I glory, 

Towering o'er the wrecks of time ; 

All the light of sacred story 

Gathers round its head sublime. 




SIR JOHN BOWRING 
[5i] 




^LEXANDER POPE (London, May 
21, 1688 — Twickenham, May jo, I J 7 44), 
the great English poet and satirist, wrote a 
number of moral and religious pieces, yet no 
other one has found its way into the hymn books 
except this, taken from his " Messiah" published 
in I J 12. This selection was printed in " The 
Spectator" of that time. Set to the stirring 
tune arranged from Lwolff and entitled "Mos- 
cow" it makes a splendid processional, and as 
such it is in general use at Colle Chapel and 
similar assemblies. It must be cojifessed that 
only recently has the church realized the value 
of its forceful, triumphant ring. 



MESSIAH'S REIGN 



Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise 
Exalt thy towering head, and lift thine eyes ; 
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display, 
And break upon thee in a flood of day. 

See a long race thy spacious courts adorn; 
See future sons and daughters yet unborn 
In crowding ranks on every side arise, 
Demanding life, impatient for the skies. 

See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, 
Walk in the light, and in thy temple bend ; 
See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings 
While every land its joyful tribute brings. 

The seas shall waste, the skies to smoke decay, 
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away ; 
But fixed his word, his saving power remains ; 
Thy realms shall last, thy own Messiah reigns ! 



ALEXANDER POPE 




ThIS hymn, one of the notable inclusions of 
the new Methodist hymnal, is a good representa- 
tive of the new type of songs of service, laying 
its emphasis on the concrete and the objective and 
active in religion. Its author is a Methodist 
Episcopal clergyman who was born in New 
York, Dec. J, 1 8 50, and who is now engaged 
in church executive and editorial work. He is 
the writer of other hymns. 



[54] 



THE SERVICE OF MAN 



Where cross the crowded ways of life, 
Where sound the cries of race and clan, 

Above the noise of selfish strife, 
We hear thy voice, O Son of Man ! 

In haunts of wretchedness and need, 

On shadowed thresholds dark with fears, 

From paths where hide the lures of greed, 
We catch the vision of thy tears. 

From tender childhood's helplessness, 

From woman's grief, man's burdened toil, 

From famished souls, from sorrow's stress, 
Thy heart has never known recoil. 

The cup of water given for thee, 

Still holds the freshness of thy grace ; 

Yet long these multitudes to see 
The sweet compassion of thy face. 

O Master, from the mountain side, 

Make haste to heal these hearts of pain, 

Among these restless throngs abide, 
O, tread the city's streets again, 

Till sons of men shall learn thy love 

And follow where thy feet have trod ; 
Till glorious from thy heaven above 
Shall come the city of our God. 



FRANK MASON NORTH 
_ 



Even a brief anthology of English hymns 
would of necessity contain several written by 
the talented and devoted bishop of Calcutta. In 
his brief but intense ministry of nineteen years 
he accomplished much good, in England, in 
the country village where he was first rector, 
and afterwards in London, and also in India. 
This hymn was written while he was rector at 
Hodney, about l8ll. While it is i?itended for 
the first week of the new year, to celebrate the 
coining of the Magi to the infant Savior, it is 
used and greatly enjoyed by congregations every- 
where at all seasons. 



[s«] 



"STAR OF THE EAST" 



BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of th 
morning ! 

Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid ; 
Star of the east, the horizon adorning, 
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. 

Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining, 
Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall ; 

Angels adore him, in slumber reclining, 
Maker, and Monarch, and Savior of all ! 

Say shall we yield him, in costly devotion, 
Odors of Edom and offerings divine ? 

Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, 
Myrrh from the forest and gold from the mine 

Vainly we offer each ample oblation, 

Vainly with gifts would his favor secure ; 

Richer by far is the heart's adoration ; 

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 

Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid ; 
Star of the east, the horizon adorning, 

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. 



BISHOP REGINALD HEBER 



[57] 



PHILIP DODDRIDGE (London, June 
26, 1702 — Lisbon, Oct. 26, 1751), the 
famous expositor, general writer, and author of 
many hymns, was an English Congregational 
minister. He became pastor of a church at 
Kibsworth at the age of twenty, and at twenty- 
seven he was engaged in training others for the 
work of the ministry. This song for the new 
year was given to the public in the collection 
of Doddridge } s hymns published in 1 755. It 
was usually sung at what were known as the 
(( watchnight services" of the last generation, 
midnight meetings held to observe the going out 
of the old year and the coming in of the new 
with appropriate hymns and worship. 



[58] 



THE NEW YEAR 



CjTREAT God, we sing that mighty hand 
By which supported still we stand : 
The opening year thy mercy shows ; 
Let mercy crown it till it close. 

By day, by night — at home, abroad, 
Still we are guarded by our God ; 
By his incessant bounty fed, 
By his unerring counsel led. 

With grateful hearts the past we own ; 
The future — all to us unknown — 
We to thy guardian care commit, 
And peaceful leave before thy feet. 

In scenes exalted or depressed, 
Be thou our joy and thou our rest; 
Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise, 
Adored, through all our changing days. 

When death shall close our earthly songs, 
And seal, in silence, mortal tongues, 
Our Helper, God, in whom we trust, 
Shall keep our souls and guard our dust 



PHILIP DODDRIDGE 



[59] 




Sir henrt williams baker 

(London, England, May 2J, 1821 — Monk- 
land, Herefordshire, Feb, 12, l8jj) was not 
only a baronet, but he was also a clergyman in 
active service, being the vicar of Monkland. 
He was the author of many hymns and was 
appointed chairman of the committee which com- 
piled and edited that splendid collection known 
as 6 6 Hymns, Ancient and Modern" This 
hymn, which is, of course, based on the Twenty- 
third Psalm, was published in 1868. A pathetic 
interest attaches to the last two lines of the 
third stanza; they were the last words uttered 
by their author, being quoted a few moments 
before he died. The hymn is usually sung to 
the tune "Dominus Regit," by Dr. Dykes. 



[60] 



£ 

THE KING OF LOVE 



The King of love my Shepherd is, 
Whose goodness faileth never, 

I nothing lack if I am his, 
And he is mine forever. 

Where streams of living water flow 
My ransomed soul he leadeth, 

And where the verdant pastures grow, 
With food celestial feedeth. 

Perverse and foolish, oft I strayed, 
But yet in love he sought me, 

And on his shoulder gently laid, 
And home, rejoicing, brought me. 

In death's dark vale I fear no ill 
With thee, dear Lord, beside me, 

Thy rod and staff my comfort still, 
Thy cross before to guide me. 

Thou spread'st a table in my sight, 
Thy unction grace bestoweth, 

And, O, what transport of delight 
From thy pure chalice rloweth. 

And so through all the length of days 
Thy goodness faileth never, 

Good Shepherd ! may I sing thy praise 
Within thy house forever. 

SIR HENRY WILLIAMS BAKER 



[6,] 



Francis rous (mim> Cornwall, 

England, 1579 — -Acton, Jan. J, 1659) was 
one of CromwelP s advisors and friends, at one 
time Provost of Eton and a member of the 
Westminster Assembly. He published a version 
of the Psalms, in 1 641, which included this one. 
This paraphrase of the Twenty -third Psalm 
probably represents the very best, the most 
familiar and best loved of all the Psalms of 
the Scottish church. Wherever it is heard it 
awakens a thrill of memory and devotion greater 
and deeper than even that aroused by "Auld 
Lang Syne" 



[6a] 



THE SHEPHERD PSALM 




The Lord 's my shepherd, I 'Hnot want : 

He makes me down to lie 
In pastures green ; he leadeth -me 

The quiet waters by. 

My soul he doth restore again ; 

And me to walk doth make 
Within the paths of righteousness, 

Ev'n for his own name's sake. 

Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, 

Yet will I fear no ill ; 
For thou art with me, and thy rod 

And staff me comfort still. 

My table thou hast furnished 

In presence of my foes ; 
My head thou dost with oil anoint, 

And my £up overflows. 

Goodness and mercy, all my life, 

Shall surely follow me ; 
And in God's house for evermore 

My dwelling-place shall be. 



F R A N'C IS ROUS 
~1 




Frances ridlet havergal 

(Astley, England, Dec. 14, l8j6 — Swansea, 
Wales, June 3, ^8yg) was the most facile of 
the modern hymn writers. Her complete poetical 
works, all of which are of a religious character, 
make a large volume. In connection with the 
young people 's church organizations many of 
her hymns have become exceedingly popular. 
"The "Consecration Hymn' is used to this day 
more than any other song in the meetings of these 
societies, as well as being a favorite with popular 
church gatherings. 



[64] 



A CONSECRATION HYMN 



T 




AKE my life and let it be 
Consecrated, Lord, to thee ; 
Take my hands, and let them move 
At the impulse of thy love. 

Take my feet, and let them be 
Swift and beautiful for thee ; 
Take my voice, and let me sing 
Always, only, for my King. 

Take my lips, and let them be 
Filled with messages from thee ; 
Take my silver and my gold, 
Not a mite would I withhold. 

Take my moments and my days, 
Let them flow in ceaseless praise ; 
Take my intellect, and use 
Every power as thou shalt choose. 

Take my will, and make it thine ; 
It shall be no longer mine; 
Take my heart, it is thine own ! 
It shall be thy royal throne. 

Take my love ; my Lord, I pour 
At thy feet its treasure-store ; 
Take myself, and I will be, 
Ever, only, all for thee. 



FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL 



[«5] 




1 HE Rev, Joseph Grigg (London, Engla?id, 
IJ28—IJ68 ), first a mechanic and afterwards 
a useful Presbyterian minister, showed signs of 
poetic power early in life. It is said that this 
hymn was written when he was but a young 
lad, though it was not published until lJJ4 y 
when it appeared in "The Gospel Magazine " 



[66] 



THE CHRISTIAN'S GLORY 



JeSUS ! and shall it ever be, 
A mortal man ashamed of thee ? 
Ashamed of thee, whom angels praise, 
Whose glories shine through endless days ? 

Ashamed of Jesus ! sooner far 
Let evening blush to own a star ; 
He sheds the beams of light divine 
O'er this benighted soul of mine. 

Ashamed of Jesus ! that dear Friend 
On whom my hopes of heaven depend ! 
No; when I blush — be this my shame, 
That I no more revere his name. 

Ashamed of Jesus ! yes, I may, 
When I Ve no guilt to wash away ; 
No tear to wipe, no good to crave, 
No fears to quell, no soul to save. 

Till then — nor is my boasting vain — 
Till then I boast a Savior slain ! 
And oh, may this my glory be, 
That Christ is not ashamed of me ! 



Isaac WATTS (Southampton, England, 
July 77, 1674 — London, Nov. 25, 1748) is 
called the father of English hymnody, preceding 
Charles Wesley in point of time and probably 
surpassing hi?n in the sustained quality and 
popularity of his work. He was an Inde- 
pendent or Congregational preacher debarred 
from the universities for his religious views 
and hindered in his work by infirmity and ill- 
ness. Some authorities consider this the finest 
hymn in the English language, while the rest 
place it second only to Toplady 9 s "Rock of 
Ages. 9 9 Four great hymns, 6 ' Wondrous Cross, 9 9 
"Rock of Ages, 33 "Jesus, Lover of My Soul, 99 
and "Coronation, 99 are printed in more collec- 
tions, translated into more tongues, and used in 
more congregations than any others. These four 
were written within the space of one hundred 
years, the one by Watts being the first of them. 



[68] 



THE WONDROUS CROSS 

: 



When I survey the wondrous cross, 
On which the Prince of Glory died, 

My richest gain I count but loss. 
And pour contempt on all my pride. 

Forbid it, Lord ! that I should boast, 
Save in the death of Christ, my God ; 

All the vain things that charm me most 
I sacrifice them to his blood. 

See, from his head, his hands, his feet, 
Sorrow and love flow mingled down ; 

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
Or thorns compose so rich a crown ? 

His dying crimson, like a robe, 
Spreads o'er his body on the tree ; 

Then I am dead to all the globe, 
And all the globe is dead to me. 

Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
That were a present far too small ; 
ove so amazing, so divine, 
Demands my soul, my life, my all. 



ISAAC WATTS 



[69] 



the circumstances of the composition 
of this hymn are not definitely known it was 
probably written in India about 1836. From 
that land it has journeyed into all others and is 
now a universal favorite in all church services. 
When sung to the tune "Lyons" it makes an 
appropriate and inspiring opening hymn. Its 
author, Sir Robert Grant, born in England, 
Ij8j, was a Scotch Episcopalian. He became 
member of parliament for Inverness and later 
a privy councillor. In 18 34. he was appointed 
governor of Bombay. His literary activity, 
which resulted in several books, including two 
on India, and a number of good hymns, belongs 
to this period. He died at Dapoorie, India, 
July Q, 1838. 



C 70] 



O, WORSHIP THE KING 




o , WORSHIP the King all glorious above, 
And gratefully sing his wonderful love ; 
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of days, 
Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise. 

O, tell of his might, and sing of his grace, 
Whose robe is the light, whose canopy space ; 
His chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form, 
And dark is his path on the wings of the storm. 

Thy bountiful care, what tongue can recite ? 
It breathes in the air; it shines in the light; 
It streams from the hills ; it descends to the plain ; 
And sweetly distils in the dew and the rain. 

Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail, 
In thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail ; 
Thy mercies how tender, how firm to the end, 
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend ! 

O, measureless Might, Ineffable Love, 
While angels delight to hymn thee above, 
The humbler creation, though feeble their lays, 
With true adoration shall lisp to thy praise. 



^ SIR ROBERT GRANT l&m 

y - 



ROBERT ROBIN SON (Norfolk, Eng- 
land, Sept. 27, I73S — Cambridge, June g, 
) was a minister of the gospel who served 
in several denominations. In his day he was 
looked upon as a heretic on account of his liberal 
opinions, and he suffered not a little for his faith. 
He wrote one other well-known hymn. But 
there are few hymns by any writers which ap- 
proach this in general popularity ; it has been 
translated into many languages, sung in churches 
of many creeds, and shows to-day no sign of a 
wane in its acceptance with the people. 



[7*] 



THE FOUNT OF BLESSING j 



C->OME, thou fount of every blessing, 
Tune my heart to sing thy grace; 

Streams of mercy, never ceasing, 
Call for songs of loudest praise. 

Teach me some melodious sonnet, 
Sung by flaming tongues above ; 

Praise the mount, O, fix me on it, 
Mount of God's unchanging love. 

Here I raise my Ebenezer, 

Hither, by thine help, I 'm come ; 

And I hope, by thy good pleasure, 
Safely to arrive at home. 

Jesus sought me when a stranger, 
Wand'ring from the fold of God ; 

He, to rescue me from danger, 
Interposed with precious blood. 

O ! to grace how great a debtor 
Daily 1 'm constrained to be ! 

Let that grace now, like a fetter, 
Bind my wand'ring heart to thee ! 

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, 
Prone to leave the Lord I love ; 

Here's my heart, O take and seal it! 
Seal it for thy courts above. 



ROBERT ROBINSON 



[73] 



I T is not long since this hymn passed through 
a period of the same kind of criticism that is 
now being given to "Lead, Kindly Light" 
Partisan prejudices easily blind minds incapable 
of appreciating poetic truth, but the verdict of 
the people settles these things in the end. The 
fact that Faber's evening hymn is now sung at 
the close of service in churches of all faiths and 
in all lands well illustrates the potency of reli- 
gious songs to overcome sectarian differences. 
It was written in l8$2 and published under 
the title, " Evening Hymn at the Oratory," the 
reference being to the congregation of St. Philip 
Neri, which was founded by Faber at Birming- 
ham, England, and afterwards removed to 
London. 



[74] 



A PARTING PRAYER 



SwEET Savior ! bless us ere we go, 
Thy word into our minds instill ; 

And make our lukewarm hearts to glow 
With lowly love and fervent will. 

chorus 

Through life's long day and death's 

dark night, 
O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
O gentle Jesus, be our light. 

The day is done, its hour has run ; 

And thou hast taken count of all ; 
The scanty triumphs grace hath won, 

The broken vow, the frequent fall. 

Grant us, dear Lord, from evil ways, 
True absolution and release ; 

And bless us, more than in past days, 
With purity and inward peace. 

Do more than pardon ; give us joy, 
Sweet fear, and sober liberty, 

And loving hearts without alloy, 
That only long to be like thee. 

For all we love, the poor, the sad, 
The sinful, unto thee we call ; 

O ! let thy mercy make us glad, 
That art our Jesus and our All. 



FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER 



[75] 



Mart Artemisia lathburt 

was born in the little village of Manchester , 
Orleans County, N. T. 9 Aug. 10, 1841. She 
has given a large part of her life to writing 
hymns and to religious interests. At the re- 
quest of Bishop fohn H. Vincent she wrote the 
first two verses of this hymn for use at the 
evening gatherings at the Chautauqua assem- 
bly in 1880. Since then it has been known to 
all who have participated in those vesper ser- 
vices as their favorite evening hymn. Stanzas 
three and four were added by the author quite 
recently. The hymn has won for itself a place 
in the front rank in a remarkably short time. 
It should be sung to the impressive tune 
"Evening Praise," by Sherwin. 



[76] 



VESPER HYMN 



Day is dying in the west ; 
Heaven is touching earth with rest ; 
Wait and worship while the night 
Sets her evening lamps alight 
Through all the sky. 

CHORUS 

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts ! 
Heaven and earth are full of thee ! 
Heaven and earth are praising thee, 
O Lord most high ! 

Lord of life, beneath the dome 
Of the universe, thy home, 
Gather us who seek thy face 
To the fold of thy embrace, 
For thou art nigh. 

While the deepening shadows fall, 
Heart of love, enfolding all, 
Through the glory and the grace 
Of the stars that veil thy face 
Our hearts ascend. 

When forever from thy sight 
Pass the stars, the day, the night, 
Lord of angels, on our eyes 
Let eternal morning rise 
And shadows end. 



MARY ARTEMISIA LATHBURY 



[77] 



HORATIUS BONAR (Edinburgh, Dec. 
ig, 1808 — July 31, i88g) ranks next to 
Watts and Wesley in the number of his living 
hymns and in their popularity. His life was 
passed as a Presbyterian minister at Kelso and 
at Edinburgh. In the latter city his work 
resembled that of Beecher in this country. It 
is a singular fact that, while he wrote most of 
his hymns for his Sunday-school, they were not 
permitted to be sung in his own church services. 
But the rest of the world readily took them up, 
and now it is hard to find a hymnal without 
twenty or thirty of his hymns. The tune "Vox 
Dilecti" was especially written for this hymn ; 
it carries out, in a striking manner, the contrast 
between the first and the second halves of each 
stanza. 



[78] 



THE VOICE OF JESUS 



I HEARD the voice of Jesus say — 

" Come unto me and rest ; 
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down 

Thy head upon my breast ! " 
I came to Jesus as I was, 

Weary and worn and sad ; 
I found in him a resting-place, 

And he hath made me glad. 

I heard the voice of Jesus say — 

" Behold, I freely give 
The living water ; thirsty one, 

Stoop down, and drink, and live ! " 
I came to Jesus, and I drank 

Of that life-giving stream ; 
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived. 

And now I live in him. 

I heard the voice of Jesus say — 

" I am this dark world's light ; 
Look unto me, thy morn shall rise. 

And all thy day be bright !" 
I looked to Jesus, and I found 

In him my Star, my Sun ; 
And in that light of life I '11 walk, 

Till travelling days are done. 



HORATIUS BONAR 



[79] 



JoHN FAWCETT (Lidget Green, York- 
shire, England, 'Jan, 6, l Jjg — Wains gate, 
July 2$, 18 17 J, an English Baptist pastor, 
was the author of several beautiful hymns. It 
is said that, in 1 77 2, after he had served the 
little congregation at Wainsgate for some years, 
living on a small salary, he decided to accept a 
call to an important church in London. He 
packed his goods and prepared to leave. But 
his affection for his people led him to recall his 
acceptance and to remain with them. On that 
occasion he wrote this hymn. He little knew 
that he was writing a hymn that would be sung 
in many lands and at almost all times of part- 
ing and of reunion. 



[go] 



BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS 



BlEST be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love ; 

The fellowship of kindred minds 
Is like to that above. 

Before our Father's throne 
We pour our ardent prayers ; 

Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one, 
Our comforts and our cares. 

We share our mutual woes, 

Our mutual burdens bear; 
And often for each other flows 

The sympathizing tear. 

When we asunder part, 

It gives us inward pain; 
But we shall still be joined in heart, 

And hope to meet again. 

This glorious hope revives 

Our courage by the way ; 
While each in expectation lives 

And longs to see the day. 

From sorrow, toil, and pain, 

And sin, we shall be free, 
And perfect love and friendship reign 

Through all eternity. 



JOHN FAWCETT, D.D 
"[««] 




Richard Baxter (Rowton, Shrop- 
shire, England, Nov. 12, 1615 — London, 
Dec. 8, l6gi ), one of the first great Noncon- 
formists, the author of " The Saint's Rest, " 
had a checkered career in the days of Cromwell 
and Charles. He is represented in the worship 
of the churches to-day by this one hymn, which 
must be counted as one of the earliest of the 
modern type of church hymn. Perhaps it is 
not very popular to-day; but is well worth 
knowing both as a type of hymn and as a poetic 
setting of a faith that is good for any age. 



[8z] 



CONTENT 



L/ORD, it belongs not to my care 

Whether I die or live ; 
To love and serve thee is my share, 

And this thy grace must give. 

If life be long, I will be glad 

That I may long obey ; 
If short, yet why should I be sad 

To soar to endless day ? 

Christ leads me through no darker rooms 

Than he went through before ; 
He that into God's kingdom comes 

Must enter by this door. 

Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet 

Thy blessed face to see ; 
For, if thy work on earth be sweet, 

What will thy glory be ? 

My knowledge of that life is small ; 

The eye of faith is dim ; 
But 't is enough that Christ knows all, 

And I shall be with him. 



RICHARD BAXTER 



[»3] 




THE Rev. Washington Gladden, D.D. {Pitts- 
grove, Pa., Feb. u, l8j6 ), is the pastor of the 
principal Congregational church in Columbus, 
O., and at present the president of the Ameri- 
can Missionary association. He was educated 
at Williams College, graduating in l8$g. As 
the editor of the " New Tork Lidependent " and 
of the "Sunday Afternoon" and as a writer of 
religious books he has become well known, while 
his campaign against the acceptance of " tainted 
money " made him yet more widely known. 
This hymn appeared in "Sunday Afternoon " in 
March, 187 Q. In view of the time usually 
necessary for a hymn to come into general use, 
" Walking with God" has attained a remark- 
able degree of popularity ; it undoubtedly be- 
longs already in the ranks of the standard 
favorite hymns. 



[*4] 



WALKING WITH GOD 



o MASTER, let me walk with thee 
In lowly paths of service free; 
Tell me thy secret; help me bear 
The strain of toil, the fret of care. 

Help me the slow of heart to move 
By some clear winning word of love ; 
Teach me the wayward feet to stay, 
And guide them in the homeward way. 

Teach me thy patience ! still with thee 
In closer, dearer company. 
In work that keeps faith sweet and strong 
In trust that triumphs over wrong. 

In hope that sends a shining ray 
Far down the future's broadening way ; 
In peace that only thou canst give, 
With thee, O Master, let me live. 



WASHINGTON GLADDEN 



[«5] 



Charlotte elliott (Brighton, 

England, March 18, 1 789 — Brighton, Sept. 
22, l8jl J, is the greatest of British female 
hymn writers, having to her credit, in all, one 
hundred and fifty hymns, the greater number of 
which ate recognized as standard. Tet she 
was all her life almost an invalid, spending her 
days in quiet literary work in the south of Eng- 
land and on the Continent. Without question 
this is the greatest of all the special evangelistic 
hymns. The stories told of its power over the 
mind and heart are innumerable. 



[86] 



JUST AS I AM 



JlJST as I am, without one plea, 
But that thy blood was shed for me, 
And that thou bidd'st me come to thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, and waiting not 
To rid my soul of one dark blot, 
To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, though tossed about 
With many a conflict, many a doubt, 
Fightings within, and fears without, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind ; 
Sight, riches, healing of the mind, 
Yea, all I need, in thee I find, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, thou wilt receive, 

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve ; 

Because thy promise I believe, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, thy love unknown 
Hath broken every barrier down ; 
Now, to be thine, yea, thine alone, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 



CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT 



[*7] 



T^HE sisters Alice and Phoebe Cary were 
well known to an earlier generation for their 
literary work, chiefly of a poetical character. 
Phoebe was born near Cincinnati, Sept. 24, 
1826 ; afterwards she removed to New York. 
She died at Newport, R. L, July 31, 187 I. 
This is the only example of her work found in 
the hymn books and even this was not written 
for a hymn. It appeared as a poem in a very 
different form in 1852 and the present metre 
was not adopted until l86g. Since then the 
song has been very generally used and counted 
as a favorite both for church services and for 
home and individual use. 



NEARER HOME 



OnE sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o'er and o'er, — 

I am nearer home to-day 

Than I ever have been before. 

Nearer my Father's house, 

Where the many mansions be ; 

Nearer the great white throne ; 
Nearer the crystal sea; 

Nearer the bound of life, 

Where we lay our burdens down ; 
Nearer leaving the cross ; 

Nearer gaining the crown. 

But the waves of that silent sea 
Roll dark before my sight, 

That brightly the other side 
Break on a shore of light. 

O if my mortal feet 

Have almost gained the brink, 
If it be I am nearer home 

Even to-day than I think, 

Father, perfect my trust; 

Let my spirit feel in death 
That her feet are firmly set 

On the rock of a living faith. 



PHCEBE CARY 



[89] 



This is another example of the splendid work 
accomplished by the great poet of the early 
period of English hymnody in paraphrasing the 
Psalms, He here gives us his version of the 
Seventy-Second Psalm. Among all the mis- 
sionary hymns which have obtained wide cur- 
rency this is by far the best known and the 
best liked in the churches and by the people 
who are the results of missionary effort. It 
has been translated into almost every tongue 
into which Christianity has gone. It was 
sung at the great gathering of converts from 
the islands of Samoa, Tonga, and Fiji, in 
1862, when these people formally renounced 
their old faith for the new. 



i>] 



MESSIAH'S KINGDOM 



JeSUS shall reign where'er the sun 
Does his successive journeys run; 
His kingdom spread from shore to shore, 
Till moons shall wax and wane no more. 

From north to south the princes meet 
To pay their homage at his feet; 
While western empires own their Lord 
And savage tribes attend his word. 

To him shall endless prayer be made, 
And endless praises crown his head ; 
His name like sweet perfume shall rise 
With every morning sacrifice. 

People and realms of every tongue 
Dwell on his love with sweetest song, 
And infant voices shall proclaim 
Their early blessings on his name. 

Let every creature rise and bring 
Peculiar honors to our King ; 1 
Angels descend with songs again, 
And earth repeat the loud Amen. 



ISAAC WATTS 

c71 




Oliver wendell holmes 

(Cambridge, Mass., Aug. 2Q 9 l8og — Oct. 
/, 1894), professor in Harvard Medical 
School, is well known as an essayist, poet, and 
novelist. One year after his graduation from 
Harvard he fairly leaped into fame with his 
poem, " Old Ironsides. " He is best known 
to-day for his series of essays. The hymn given 
here is always a favorite in gatherings of 
people of different denominations and creeds. 
It beautifully expresses aspiration and worship, 
and, at the same time, admits of the widest 
doctrinal divergencies. No other tune seems 
to suit this hymn quite so well as " Louvan," 
by V, C. Taylor. 



LORD OF ALL BEING 



JL/ORD of all being ; throned afar, 
Thy glory flames from sun and star ; 
Center and soul of every sphere, 
Yet to each loving heart how near ! 

Sun of our life, thy quickening ray 
Sheds on our path the glow of day ; 
Star of our hope, thy softened light 
Cheers the long watches of the night. 

Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; 
Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; 
Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign ; 
All, save the clouds of sin, are thine ! 

Lord of all life, below, above, 
Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love, 
Before thy ever blazing throne 
We ask no luster of our own. 

Grant us thy truth to make us free, 
And kindling hearts that burn for thee, 
Till ail thy living altars claim 
One holy light, one heavenly flame ! 






OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 



[93] 




ACCORDING to the "Anglican Hym- 
nology," which is a semi-official estimate of the 
popularity of church hymns, Bishop Ken has 
two titles to his credit amongst the ten greatest 
songs of worship. His evening coinposition, 
" All Praise to Thee, My God, This Night" 
ranks first of all, and "Awake, My Soul" is 
given the sixth place. He wrote both these 
hymns while in his charge at Winchester, the 
scene of his early education. At his own 
request the good bishop was buried under the 
east window of the chancel at Frome Selwood, 
being interred just at sunrise, while those gath- 
ered about the grave sang, " Awake, My Soul, 
and with the Sun" 



[94] 



Awake, my soul, and with the sun 
Thy daily stage of duty run ; 
Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise 
To pay thy morning sacrifice. 

Awake, lift up thyself, my heart, 
And with the angels bear thy part, 
Who all night long unwearied sing 
High praises to th' eternal King. 

Glory to thee, who safe hast kept, 
And hast refreshed me while I slept ; 
Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake, 
I may of endless life partake. 

Lord, I my vows to thee renew : 
Scatter my sins as morning dew ; 
Guard my first springs of thought and will, 
And with thyself my spirit fill. 

Direct, control, suggest, this day, 
All I design, or do, or say ; 
That all my powers, with all my might, 
In thy sole glory may unite. 




BISHOP THOMAS KEN 
[95] 




Nicolas LUDWIG, Count von Zinzen- 
dorf ( Dresden, May 26, IJOO — Hernhutt, 
May g, I J 60 ), is said to have written two 
thousand hymns, improvising no s?nall number 
of them, frequently giving the people a hymn to 
close the service immediately after preaching 
on its subject. He was educated at Witten- 
berg and became a bishop of the Moravian 
church. He visited the United States during 
a time of persecution in Saxony. Some of his 
hymns translated by John Wesley and others 
are amongst the best known in the Unglish 
to-day. This one, entitled at home " Jesu 
geh, voran^ is translated by Miss fane Borth- 
wick. U. C. Burnap wrote a very good tune 
for it. 



[96] 



TO OUR FATHERLAND 



JeSUS, still lead on, 

Till our rest be won ; 
And although the way be cheerless, 
We will follow calm and fearless ; 

Guide us by thy hand 

To our Fatherland. 

If the way be drear, 

If the foe be near, 
Let not faithless fear o'ertake us, 
Let not faith and hope forsake us ; 

For, through many a foe, 

To our home we go. 

When we seek relief 
From a long-felt grief, 
When temptations come, alluring, 
Make us patient and enduring, 
Show us that bright shore, 
Where we weep no more. 

Jesus, still lead on, 

Till our rest be won ; 
Heavenly Leader, still direct us, 
Still support, console, protect us, 

Till we safely stand 

In our Fatherland. 



COUNT VON ZINZENDORF 



[97] 




JAMES MONTGOMERr (Ayrshire, 
Scotland, Nov. 4, 17 71 — Sheffield, England, 
April jo, 1854), editor, publisher, and poet, 
was the author of over four hundred hymns. 
He is the one layman, beside Cowper, who 
has attained fame as the writer of a hymn be- 
longing in the front rank. As an editor he 
was an ardent reformer, and this cost him 
fines and imprisonment many times; but his 
fame as a poet led the government to grant 
him an annual pension hi his later years. In 
Dr. Benson s list of the best church hymns this 
one is given the tenth place. Its popularity 
is great in every land, and it has not only 
become a standard church hymn, but, set to 
many bright tunes, it is a favorite in religious 
meetings of all kinds. 



[98] 



JERUSALEM, MY HAPPY HOME 



JERUSALEM, my happy home, 

Name ever dear to me ! 
When shall my labors have an end, 

In joy and peace and thee? 
When shall these eyes thy heaven built walls 

And pearly gates behold ? 
Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, 

And streets of shining gold ? 

There happier bowers than Eden's bloom, 

Nor sin nor sorrow know. 
Blest seats ! thro' rude and stormy scenes 

I onward press to you. 
Why should I shrink at pain and woe, 

Or feel at death dismay? 
I 've Canaan's goodly land in view, 

And realms of endless day. 

Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there 

Around my Savior stand ; 
And soon my friends in Christ below 

Will join the glorious band. 
Jerusalem, my happy home ! 

My soul still pants for thee : 
Then shall my labors have an end, 

When I thy joys shall see. 



JAMES MONTGOMERY 



[99] 



1HE Rev. John Ellerton (London, Dec. 16, 
1826 — White Roding, 1893) is the author 
of a number of the most stately of our familiar 
modern hymns. He was a clergyman of the 
English Episcopal church, educated at Trinity, 
Cambridge, spending his life in quiet country 
churches and writing these beautiful hymns. 
This Easter hymn he gave to the public in 
1868 as a rendering of the (( Salve, festa dies'* 
of Fortunatus. The old Latin version is the 
one which Jerome of Prague is said to have 
sung on his way to death at the stake. The 
English version, by Ellerton, will probably be 
sung on Easter Sunday morning in almost every 
church all over the world wherever that tongue 
is spoken. 



1 100 ] 




EASTER HYMN 



W'elcome, happy morning ! Age to age 

shall say 

Hell to-day is vanquished, heaven is won to-day ! 
Lo ! the dead is living, Lord for evermore ! 
Him, their true Creator, all his works adore ! 

Maker and Redeemer, life and health of all, 
Thou, from heaven beholding human nature's fall, 
Of the Father's godhead true and only son, 
Manhood to deliver, manhood didst put on. 

Thou, of life the author, death did undergo, 
Tread the path of darkness, saving strength to 
show. 

Come, then, true and faithful, now fulfill thy word ; 
'T is thine own third morning; rise, O buried Lord. 

Loose the souls long prisoned, bound with Satan's 
chain ; 

All that now is fallen raise to life again ; 

Show thy face in brightness, bid the nations see, 

Bring again our daylight ; day returns with thee ! 



T'lIIS hymn of the Resurrection, by Charles 
Wesley, has taken its place with the foremost 
hymns of the church on this subject. It is 
found in practically all the hy7nnals, and has 
been ranked, both on popularity and on intrinsic 
merit, among the best twenty-five hymns of 
Christendom, It is sung in a great many 
churches all over the world on the morning 
of Raster day, and most frequently in the form 
given here, to the tune written by f . Worgan 
and entitled " Easter Hymn" 



[ IOZ] 



AN EASTER HYMN 



C»HRIST, the Lord, is risen to-day; 

Hallelujah ! 
Sons of men and angels say: 

Hallelujah! 

Raise your joys and triumphs high : 

Hallelujah ! 
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply : 

Hallelujah ! 

Love's redeeming work is done, 
Fought the fight, the battle won : 
Lo ! our sun's eclipse is o'er ; 
Lo 1 he sets in blood no more. 

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, 
Christ hath burst the gates of hell : 
Death in vain forbids him rise, 
Christ hath opened paradise. 

Lives again our glorious king : 
Where, O death, is now thy sting ? 
Once he died, our souls to save : ' 
Where thy victory, O grave ? 

Soar we now where Christ hath led, 
Following our exalted head : 
Made like him, like him we rise : 
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. 



CHARLES WESLEY 



John greenleaf whittier 

(Haverhill, Mass., Dec. lJ,l8oj — Hamp- 
ton Falls, N. H., Sept. y, i8g2 J, was a man 
whose beautiful catholicity of spirit is clearly 
seen in all the hymns that the churches have 
adopted from his poems. Perhaps the rapidly 
growing popularity of his hymns is indicative 
of a spread in the churches of the spirit which 
he so earnestly advocated. The whole of the 
beautiful poem entitled "Our Master/' from 
which these stanzas are taken, should be read 
in order to appreciate fully the poefs spirit in 
the hymn. 



[104] 



OUR MASTER 

I 



We may not climb the heavenly steeps 
To bring the Lord Christ down ; 

In vain we search the lowest deeps, 
For him no depths can drown. 

But warm, sweet, tender even yet 

A present help is he; 
And faith has still its Olivet, 

And love its Galilee. 

The healing of the seamless dress 

Is by our beds of pain ; 
We touch him in life's throng and press, 

And we are whole again. 

Through him the first fond prayers are said 

Our lips of childhood frame; 
The last low whispers of our dead 

Are burdened with his name. 

O Lord and Master of us all, 

Whate'er our name or sign, 
We own thy sway, we hear thy call, 

We test our lives by thine. 



JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 



Edward henry bickersteth 

( London, Jan, 2$, 1 8 2$ ), an English Epis- 
copalian, who was created bishop of Exeter 
in 1885, is the author of a religious poem, 
" Yesterday, To-day, and Forever," of the 
hymnal companion to the Book of Common Prayer, 
and of a number of hymns. "Perfect Peace" 
is especially noteworthy as the favorite hymn 
of §>ueen Victoria, being often sung by request 
in the services which she attended. While this 
is one of the new hymns, having been written 
but a few years, it is finding a place in all 
the standard collections, and its growing popu- 
larity will probably give it a permanent place 
amongst the great hymns. It is usually sung 
to the stately tune " Pax Tecum." 



[>o6] 



fit 



PERFECT PEACE 



PeACE, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin ? 
The blood of Jesus whispers peace within. 

Peace, perfect peace, by thronging duties pressed ? 
To do the will of Jesus, this is rest. 

Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surging round ? 
On Jesus' bosom naught but calm is found. 

Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away ? 
In Jesus' keeping we are safe and they. 

Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown ? 
Jesus we know and he is on the throne. 

Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing us and ours ? 
Jesus has vanquished death and all its powers. 

It is enough ; earth's struggles soon shall cease, 
And Jesus call us to heaven's perfect peace. 



EDWARD HENRY BICKERSTETH 



[io7] 




Frederick william faber 

has given to the church of all Christendom 
several beautiful hymns, but this is one that 
seems to touch the deepest longing of the hearts 
of men everywhere ', and therefore it is one of the 
most popular of all the works of this gifted 
writer. It is found in every collection of 
hymns that claims anything approaching com- 
pleteness, regardless of denomination or creed, 
although the days are not many since it would 
have been rigidly excluded from the greater 
number. This universality of use is due not 
only to a greater toleration, but to the accuracy 
with which this hymn expresses the present 
world weariness and longing for rest. The 
beautiful tune, entitled " Paradise/' was com- 
posed especially for this hymn by Sir Joseph 
Barnby. 



[108] 



PARADISE 



O PARADISE, O Paradise, 
Who doth not crave for rest? 
Who would not seek the happy land 
Where they that loved are blest? 
Where loyal hearts and true 
Stand ever in the light, 
All rapture through and through, 
In God's most holy sight. 

O Paradise, O Paradise, 
The world is growing old ; 

Who would not be at rest and free 
Where love is never cold ? 

Where loyal hearts and true, etc. 

O Paradise, O Paradise, 

I greatly long to see 
The special place my dearest Lord 

In love prepares for me ; 

Where loyal hearts and true, etc. 

Lord Jesus, King of Paradise, 

O keep me in thy love, 
And guide me to that happy land 
Of perfect rest above ; 

Where loyal hearts and true 
Stand ever in the light, 
All rapture through and through, 
In God's most holy sight. 



FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER 
[ io 9] 



While the authorship of this popular 
hymn has been generally attributed to Elizabeth 
C. Clephane, a contributor to " The Christian " 
of Boston, it has always been associated with 
the name of Ira D. Sankey, the singing com- 
panion of Dwight L. Moody. The poem was 
unknown until Mr. Sankey , looking for some- 
thing that would touch the shepherds of Scot- 
land, chanced on this in the corner of an 
obscure paper. He took it to the meeting and 
extemporized the melody to which he rendered 
it. The words and the air immediately sprang 
into great popularity and were called for at all 
the meetings. It was the leader in the remark- 
able revival of congregational singing which 
still prevails in the churches. 



[no] 



I 

THE NINETY AND NINE 



There were ninety and nine that safely lay 

In the shelter of the fold, 
But one was out on the hills away, 

Far off from the gates of gold ; 
Away on the mountains, cold and bare, 
Away from the shepherd's tender care. 

Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine ; 

Are they not enough for thee ? 
But the Shepherd answered : " One of mine 

Has wandered away from me. 
And tho' the way be rough and steep, 
I go to the desert to find my sheep." 

But none of the ransomed ever knew 
How deep were the waters crossed, 
Nor how dark the night which the Lord went 
thro' 

Ere he found the sheep that was lost. 
Out in the desert he heard its cry ; 
'T was sick, and helpless, and ready to die. 

But all thro' the mountains, thunder riven, 

And up from the rocky steep, 
There rose a cry to the gate of heaven : 

" Rejoice ! I have found my sheep ! " 
And the angels echoed around the throne: 
" Rejoice ! for the Lord brings back his own ! " 




FANNY J. CROSBT, the blind singer, 
blind since she was six months old, is the 
author of somewhere in the neighborhood of five 
thousand hymns and songs. Many of these 
have had a remarkable popularity, but it has 
always been of a passing character. This 
hymn deserves mention, not for any poetic 
beauty, but for the remarkable part it has 
played in many religious revivals in all parts 
of the world. It has been sung so much in 
missions and at evangelistic services that its 
words and air are known to many thousands 
who never enter a church. Fanny Crosby s 
real name is Mrs. Frances fane Van Alstyne; 
she was born March 24, 1820, at South- 
east, n. r. 



[»*] 



RESCUE THE PERISHING /( 



Rescue the perishing, 

Care for the dying, 
Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave ; 

Weep o'er the erring one, 

Lift up the fallen, 
Tell them of Jesus, the mighty to save. 

Tho' they are slighting him, 

Still he is waiting, 
Waiting the penitent child to receive. 

Plead with them earnestly. 

Plead with them gently : 
He will forgive if they only believe. 

Down in the human heart, 

Crushed by the tempter, 
Feelings lie buried that grace can restore: 

Touched by a loving heart, 

Wakened by kindness, 
Chords that were broken will vibrate once more. 

Rescue the perishing, 

Duty demands it ; 
Strength for thy labor the Lord will provide : 

Back to the narrow way 

Patiently win them ; 
Tell the poor wand'rer a Savior has died. 



FANNY J. CROSBY 



[»3] 




In spite of the fact that Watts was almost a 
wholesale hymn-maker ; and in spite of the fact 
that he wrote some of the worst doggerel that 
children have ever been forced to learn, it yet 
remains that some of the noblest Christian 
hymns are of his authorship. Some of these 
were composed in the course of setting the 
Psalms into verse, a task which he accom- 
plished in an incredibly short time. Probably 
this metrical arrangement of the Ninetieth 
Psalm was his best piece of work in all that 
great undertaking. Certainly it has become a 
favorite hy?nn with ?nany famous men, and it 
is sung in the churches more frequently than 
any of the ?nany other hymns of the author, 
save perhaps his " When I Survey the Won- 
drous Cross." 



OuR God, our help in ages past, 
Our hope for years to come ; 

Our shelter from the stormy blast, 
And our eternal home ! 

Under the shadow of thy throne 
Thy saints have dwelt secure ; 

Sufficient is thine arm alone, 
And our defense is sure. 

Before the hills in order stood, 
Or earth received her frame, 

From everlasting thou art God, 
To endless years the same. 

A thousand ages in thy sight 
Are like an evening gone ; 

Short as a watch that ends the night 
Before the rising sun. 

Time, like an ever rolling stream, 

Bears all its sons away ; 
They fly, forgotten, as a dream 

Dies at the opening day. 

Our God, our help in ages past, 
Our hope for years to come ; 

Be thou our guard while troubles last, 
And our eternal home. 



ISAAC WATTS 



C»5] 




jfoHN KEBLE (Fairford, Gloucestershire, 
England, April 2$, 1792 — Bournemouth, 
March 2Q, 1 8 66 ) the author of the "Christian 
Tear," was an English clergyman of decidedly 
high-church tendencies. He was educated at 
Oxford and was afterwards appointed pro- 
fessor of poetry there. He took a large part, 
with his pen, in the Oxford movement, but 
his claim to fame to-day rests entirely upon 
the volume of religious poems, especially upon 
the first two, the "Morning Hymn " and the 
"Evening Hymn." The six verses given here, 
while constituting only a part of the whole 
poem,^ include all those that have come into 
most general use in public worship. This 
hymn and " Abide with Me " are without 
question the two most popular evening hymns in 
the English language. 



[116] 



SUN OF MY SOUL 



SlJN of my soul, thou Savior dear, 
It is not night if thou be near ; 
O, may no earth-born cloud arise 
To hide thee from thy servant's eyes. 

When soft the dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest 
Forever on my Savior's breast. 

Abide with me from morn till eve, 
For without thee I cannot live ; 
Abide with me when night is nigh, 
For without thee I dare not die. 

If some poor wandering child of thine 
Have spurned to-day the voice divine — 
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick ; enrich the poor 
With blessings from thy boundless store ; 
Be every mourner's sleep to-night 
Like infants' slumbers, pure and light. 

Come near and bless us when we wake, 
Ere through the world our way we take ; 
Abide with me till, in thy love, 
We lose ourselves in heaven above. 



JOHN KEBLE 



[»7] 



GEORGE MATHESON (Glasgow, 
Scotland, March 27, 1 8 42 ) Scottish theologian 
and poet, the author of a number of polemical 
works on theology, and of a volume of sacred 
songs, lost his sight when but a lad, Tet he 
persevered with his studies and graduated with 
honors at Glasgow. This song was first pub- 
lished in 1 88 J. The author says it seemed to 
come to him almost against his will, for it was 
written at a time of great mental distress. 
The writer of "Black Diamond Men" makes 
a beautiful use of this hymn. 



£118] 



THE BLIND MAN'S SONG 

\i 



LOVE, thou wilt not let me go, 
I rest my weary soul in thee ; 

1 give thee back the life I owe, 
That in thine ocean depths its flow 

May richer, fuller be. 

O Light, that followest all my way, 

I yield my flickering torch to thee ; 
My heart restores its borrowed ray, 
That in thy sunshine's blaze its day 
May brighter, fairer be. 

Joy, that seekest me through pain, 
I cannot close my heart to thee ; 

1 trace the sunshine through the rain, 
And feel the promise is not vain 

That morn shall tearless be. 

Cross, that liftest up my head, 
I dare not ask to fly from thee ; 

1 lay in dust life's glory dead, 

And from the ground there blossoms red 
Life that shall endless be. 



GEORGE MATHESON 



["9] 



jfoHN HENRY NEWMAN (London, 
Feb. 21, 1801 — Edgbaston, Aug. II, 1 8 go), 
well known as a writer and an ecclesiastic, 
has yet found far greater fame as the author 
of this single hymn. He was educated at 
Ealing and at Trinity, Oxford, and in 1824 
was ordained to the ministry in the English 
church. Twenty-one years later, after a long 
period of stress of mind and conflict with 
doubt, he went into the Church of Rome. A 
particularly trying time of religious perplexity 
led to the writing of this hymn, which was 
first published as a poem, under the title 
" Light in Darkness." Bom of such an ex- 
perience, it has become the hymn not only of 
those who wander in religious unrest, but of all 
who are in darkness of any kind. It is com- 
monly sung to the tune, "Lux Benigna," by 
J. B. Dykes. 



[120] 



LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT 



L/EAD, kindly light ! amid th' encircling gloom, 

Lead thou me on ; 
The night is dark, and I am far from home, 

Lead thou me on ; 
Keep thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
The distant scene ; one step enough for me. 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou 

Shouldst lead me on ; 
I loved to choose and see my path ; but now 

Lead thou me on ; 
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, 
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years. 

So long thy power has blessed me, sure it still 

Will lead me on 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 

The night is gone ; 
And with the morn those angel faces smile 
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile ! 



CARDINAL JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 



Adelaide anne Procter 

(London, Oct. jo, 1825 — Feb. 2, 1864), 
the daughter of " Barry Cornwall," the poet 
and dramatist, is the author of " The Lost 
Chord," and also of several beautiful and 
sympathetic hymns. She spent much of her 
life in philanthropic service, particularly de- 
lighting in writing songs a?id poems to be sold 
for the benefit of charitable causes. Toward 
the end of her life she became a Roman Cath- 
olic, and seemed fairly to wear herself away in 
religious service. This hymn may be counted 
as one of the new hymns of the church, but it 
is rapidly growing in favor. 



GRATITUDE 



My God, I thank thee, who hast made 

The earth so bright, 
So full of splendor and of joy, 

Beauty, and light ; 
So many glorious things are here, 

Noble and right. 

I thank thee more that all our joy 

Is touched with pain, 
That shadows fall on brightest hours, 

That thorns remain ; 
So that earth's bliss may be our guide, 

And not our chain. 

I thank thee, Lord, that thou hast kept 

The best in store ; 
We have enough, yet not too much 

To long for more : 
A yearning for a deeper peace 

Not known before. 

I thank thee, Lord, that here our souls, 

Though amply blest, 
Can never find, although they seek, 

A perfect rest, 
Nor ever shall until they lean 

On Jesus' breast. 



ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER 



[»3] 



THOMAS KEN ' (Berkhampstead, England, 
July, l 6 j 7 — Longleat, March ig, i/fij, 
the fearless bishop of Bath in the days of 
Charles II, was the earliest of the great Eng- 
lish hymn writers. His " Evening Hymn " 
and his "Morning Hymn " are familiar to all 
Christian congregations, and the former ranks 
as one of the four greatest hymns, according to 
an exhaustive test recently conducted. The 
"Evening Hymn" is, however, especially inter- 
esting in that it contains the verse which is 
sung more frequently and by more people than 
any other single selection; this is the last verse, 
commonly known as " the long metre doxology" 
It is used in churches of every creed except the 
Unitarian, and in every tongue, and has been 
appropriated by faiths other than Christian. 



[124] 



GLORY TO THEE, MY GOD J 



CjTLORY to thee, my God, this night, 
For all the blessings of the light ; 
Keep me, O, keep me, King of kings ! 
Beneath thine own almighty wings. 

Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son, 
The ill which I this day have done ; 
That with the world, myself, and thee, 
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be. 

Teach me to live, that I may dread 
The grave as little as my bed : 
Teach me to die, that so I may 
Rise glorious at the judgment day. 

O, let my soul on thee repose, 
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close ! 
Sleep, which shall me more vigorous make, 
To serve my God when I awake. 

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow ! 
Praise him all creatures here below ! 
Praise him above, ye heavenly host ! 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 



BISHOP THOMAS KEN 



l>5] 



In even the smallest collection of standard 
hymns there would certainly be several by Reg- 
inald Heber (England, 1 78 J — India, 18 26 J, 
the author of " Greenland's Icy Mountains " 
By many authorities the hymn given here is 
thought to be his finest piece of work, and in the 
services of the churches of all denominations it 
takes high rank. In fact, in a large nwnber 
of them the first verse is invariably used as 
the opening note of praise Sunday mornings. 
It is always sung to the tune " Nice a," written 
expressly for it by Dr. f. B. Dykes. 



[iz6] 



HOLY, HOLY, HOLY 



H, 



OLY, holy, holy ! Lord God Almighty ! 
Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee ; 
Holy, holy, holy ! merciful and mighty ! 
God in three persons, blessed Trinity. 

Holy, holy, holy ! all the saints adore thee, 

Casting down their golden crowns around the 
glassy sea ; 

Cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee, 
Which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be. 

Holy, holy, holy ! though the darkness hide thee, 
Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may 
not see ; 

Only thou art holy; there is none beside thee, 
Perfect in power, in love, and purity. 

Holy, holy, holy ! Lord God Almighty ! 

All thy works shall praise thy name, in earth, 
and sky, and sea ; 
Holy, holy, holy ! merciful and mighty ; 

God in three persons, blessed Trinity ! 



BISHOP HEBER 



Charlotte elliott, author of 

" fust as I Am" was the writer of about one 
hundred and fifty other hymns. Her life as 
an invalid see?ns to have given a peculiar 
pathos to almost all her work, but it is certain 
that, with the possible exception of Frances 
Ridley Haver gal, no other woman has so suc- 
cessfully sung her way into the affections of the 
people. Strange to say, popular as this hymn 
is in the English, it is even more so in the 
French and German translations. It is known 
to-day in almost every modern tongue, and sung 
in every clime, being an especial favorite with 
mission converts and with all who are subject 
to persecution for their religious faith. 



[128] 



THY WILL BE DONE 



My God, my Father, while I stray- 
Far from my home, on life's rough way, 

teach me from my heart to say, 

" Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " 

What though in lonely grief I sigh 
For friends beloved no longer nigh ; 
Submissive still would I reply, 
" Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " 

If thou shouldst call me to resign 
What most I prize — it ne'er was mine ; 

1 only yield thee what was thine : 

" Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " 

If but my fainting heart be blest 
With thy sweet Spirit for its guest, 
My God, to thee I leave the rest ; 
" Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " 

Renew my will from day to day ; 
Blend it with thine, and take away 
Whate'er now makes it hard to say, 
" Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " 

Then when on earth I breathe no more, 
The prayer oft mixed with tears before 
I '11 sing upon a happier shore : 
" Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " 



CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT 



[»9] 




Thomas Hastings, Mus. d. (Wash- 
ington, Conn., Oct. IJ, — New Tork, 
May 15, 1872 J, is better know7i as a coin- 
poser of a number of good tunes than as a 
writer of hymns. His fame will rest on the 
tune " Top lady," to which we still sing 6 6 Rock 
of Ages." This was written in the same year 
as the hy given here, in 1 8 JO. Dr. Hast- 
ings prepared and published the first of the 
present style of hy7nn book, with the words and 
music pri7ited on the same page, in 1 8 65. 
This hymn is usually sung to the tune co7nposed 
by Lowell Mason a7td known as " Wesley." 



MISSIONARY SUCCESS 



Hail to the brightness of Zion's glad morning 
Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain ! 

Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning ; 
Zion in triumph begins her mild reign. 

Hail to the brightness of Zion's glad morning, 
Long by the prophets of Israel foretold ! 

Hail to the millions from bondage returning, 
Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold ! 

Lo ! in the desert rich flowers are springing, 
Streams ever copious are gliding along ; 

Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing 
Wastes rise in verdure and mingle in song. 

See, from all lands — from the isles of the ocean — 

Praise to Jehovah ascending on high ; 
Fallen are the engines of war and commotion, 
Shouts of salvation are rending the sky. 



THOMAS HASTINGS 




SlR JOHN BOW RING, LL.D. ("Ex- 
eter, England, Oct. iy, iyg2 — Nov. 23, 
18 J 2 ), a distinguished linguist and political 
writer, was the author of a number of excellent 
hymns, including the well known "In the Cross 
of Christ I Glory." He was a member of 
Parliament and was knighted by Queen Vic- 
toria in 1854. He was known as a Uni- 
tarian in faith, but this hymn, as well as many 
others which he wrote, has been adopted by all 
the churches. "God is Love" is one of the 
most popular songs to-day in England and her 
colonies, especially in the Sunday-schools \ 



GOD IS LOVE 



GrOD is love ; his mercy brightens 
All the path in which we rove ; 

Bliss he wakes and woe he lightens ; 
God is wisdom, God is love. 

Chance and change are busy ever; 

Man decays, and ages move ; 
But his mercy waneth never ; 

God is wisdom, God is love. 

E'en the hour that darkest seemeth 
Will his changeless goodness prove ; 

From the gloom his brightness streameth, 
God is wisdom, God is love. 

He with earthly cares entwineth 
Hope and comfort from above ; 

Everywhere his glory shineth ; 
God is wisdom, God is love. 



SIR JOHN BOWRING 



C'33] 



W ILLIAM COWPER (Berkhamp stead, 
Hertfordshire, England, Nov. 26, 1 73 1 — 
East Dereham, Norfolk, April 25, 1800) 
was subject to prolonged periods of melancholy 
which at times bordered on insanity. It is 
said that he was possessed of the delusion that 
he would die by drowning in the River Ouse, and 
that during one of his seasons of clouded intel- 
lect and of great depression of spirit he ordered 
a cab and directed that he be taken to the river, 
intending to forestall fate by suicide. But a 
dense fog rising, the cabman lost his way and 
at last brought the poet back safely to his 
home. That evening Cowper wrote this hymn. 
Born of his bitter experience, it has become 
popular, being found in all standard collections 
and sung wherever the old hymns are loved. 



C'34] 



PROVIDENCE 



CjTOD moves in a mysterious way 
His wonders to perform ; 

He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never failing skill, 
He treasures up his bright designs 

And works his sovereign will. 

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, 
The clouds ye so much dread 

Are big with mercy, and will break 
In blessings on your head. 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
But trust him for his grace ; 

Behind a frowning providence 
He hides a smiling face. 

His purposes will ripen fast, 

Unfolding every hour; 
The bud may have a bitter taste, 

But sweet will be the flower. 

Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
And scan his work in vain ; 

God is his own interpreter, 
And he will make it plain. 



WILLIAM COWPER 



[*35] 



John KEBLE, the author of the volume 
of poems known as " The Christian Tear" 
opens that book with a Morning and an Even- 
ing Hymn, From the latter the fa??iiliar " Sun 
of My Soul" is taken; the former, which in 
the book has sixteen stanzas, is given below as 
it is usually printed for church worship. To 
get the full beauty of the thought, however, the 
whole poem should be read. The author set the 
words in Lam. J: 22, 26, "His compassions 
fail not ; they are new. every morning," at the 
head of this hymn. To-day it is often used for 
opening church worship. 



[136] 



A MORNING HYMN 



New every morning is the love 
Our wakening and uprising prove ; 
Through sleep and darkness safely brought, 
Restored to life, and power, and thought. 

New mercies, each returning day, 

Hover around us while we pray ; 

New perils past, new sins forgiven, 

New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. 

If, on our daily course, our mind 
Be set to hallow all we find, 
New treasures still, of countless price, 
God will provide for sacrifice. 

The trivial round, the common task, 
Will furnish all we ought to ask ; 
Room to deny ourselves, a road 
To bring us daily nearer God. 

Only, O Lord, in thy dear love, 
Fit us for perfect rest above, 
And help us, this and every day, 
To live more nearly as we pray. 



JOHN KEBLE 



['37] 



ThE Rev. Samuel Francis Smith was born 
at Boston, Mass., Oct. 21, 1808, and died in 
He was a class?nate at Harvard of 
Oliver Wendell Holmes. Afterwards gradu- 
ating from Andover he entered the Baptist 
ministry and served therein an honorable career, 
both as pastor, professor, and editor. He is the 
author of several popular hymns ; but his claim 
to fame will rest on what is commonly recog- 
nized now as the American national hymn. 
It was written in 18 J 2, during the author s 
student life at Andover, and was first used in 
public at a Sunday-school gathering on July 
4 at the Park Street Church, Boston. Com- 
paring this hymn with the British national 
anthem, we must agree that Dr. Smith succeeded 
in his attempt to give the old tune " the ring of 
American republican patriotism." 



[138] 



NATIONAL HYMN 



M Y country ! 't is of thee, 
Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing; 
Land where my fathers died ' 
Land of the pilgrim's pride! 
From every mountain side 

Let freedom ring ! 

My native country, thee, 
Land of the noble free, 

Thy name I love; 
I love thy rocks and rills, 
Thy woods and templed hills; 
My heart with rapture thrills, 

Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees 

Sweet freedom's song : 
Let mortal tongues awake; 
Let all that breathe partake ; 
Let rocks their silence break — 

The sound prolong. 

Our fathers' God, to thee, 
Author of liberty, 

To thee we sing; 
Long may our land be bright 
With freedom's holy light; 
Protect us by thy might, 

Great God, our King. 



SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH 



C'39] 



No one knows who wrote this popular church 
hymn. In the greater number of books it is 
credited to Charles Wesley. That is because 
it first appeared in company with some of his 
hymns; but neither Wesley nor his contempo- 
raries claimed it as his. There are some 
reasons for thinking that it was the work of 
the Rev. Martin Maden (1^26-1^0), an 
English Methodist clergyman well known both 
as a vivid orator and an enthusiastic niusician. 
He practised law for several years before being 
ordained. Later he was chaplain of the Lock 
Hospital. The hymn, with its tune " Italian 
Hymn," has won for itself no uncertain place 
in the worship of American churches, although 
its use is by no means so general in other lands. 



{140] 



i 1 1 

COME, THOU ALMIGHTY KING 



C>OME, thou almighty King, 
Help us thy name to sing, 

Help us to praise ; 
Father, all glorious, 
O'er all victorious, 
Come, and reign over us, 

Ancient of Days! 

Come, thou incarnate Word, 
Gird on thy mighty sword ; 

Our prayer attend ; 
Come, and thy people bless, 
And give thy word success ; 
Spirit of holiness ! 

On us descend. 

Come, holy Comforter! 
Thy sacred witness bear, 

In this glad hour ; 
Thou, who almighty art, 
Now rule in every heart, 
And ne'er from us depart, 

Spirit of power ! 

To the great One in Three, 
The highest praises be, 

Hence, evermore ! 
His sovereign majesty 
May we in glory see, 
And to eternity 

Love and adore. 



ANONYMOUS 



[*4*] 



JoHN MASON NEALE, D. D. (Lon- 
don, Jan, 24, 18 18 — East Grinstead, Aug. 
6, 1866 ), had a troubled career as a min- 
ister of the Church of England; his learn- 
ing and piety gave hi?n a wide celebrity, but 
his ritualism led to his being inhibited by his 
bishop. He is now remembered for his sympa- 
thetic and spirited translations of the hymns 
and songs of the early Greek and Latin monks. 
This hymn first appeared in his " Hymns of 
the Eastern Church" published in 1862. It 
is a translation of the song of Stephen, a monk 
of the monastery of Mar Saba, situated near 
the Dead Sea. This song was probably first 
written in the eighth century. To many per- 
sons it is the most beautiful, as it certainly is 
one of the most sympathetic, of all Christian 
hymns. 



ART THOU WEARY 



^k.RT thou weary, art thou languid, 

Art thou sore distressed ? 
" Come to me," saith One, " and, coming, 

Be at rest." 

Hath he marks to lead me to him, 

If he be my guide? — 
" In his feet and hands are wound prints, 

And his side." 

Is there diadem, as monarch, 

That his brow adorns ! — 
" Yea, a crown, in very surety ; 

But of thorns." 

If I find him, if I follow, 

What his guerdon here ? — 
" Many a sorrow, many a labor, 

Many a tear." 

If I still hold closely to him, 

What hath he at last ? — 
" Sorrow vanished, labor ended, 

Jordan passed." 

If I ask him to receive me, 

Will he say me nay ? — 
" Not till earth, and not till heaven 

Pass away." 

Finding, following, keeping, struggling, 

Is he sure to bless ? — 
" Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs, 

Answer, Yes." 



JOHN MASON NEALE 



[*43] 



EDWARD PERRONET (London, 1726- 
1792), an eccentric preacher associated with 
the Wesleys, would have been long ago for- 
gotten but for his one great hymn which has 
been given a place in the group of the four 
greatest Christian hymns. In the United States 
it is usually sung to the tune " Coronation," 
while in other lands " Miles Lane " is used. 
The hymn has always been a favorite with 
soldiers, being sung frequently on the march, 
and in some instances its throbbing strains 
have put new life into dispirited regiments and 
swung them back into line, turning defeat into 
victory. The last verse of the hymn is said 
to have been added by fohn Rippon in 1787. 



[144] 



CORONATION 



A LL hail the power of Jesus' name ! 

Let angels prostrate fall; 
Bring forth the royal diadem, 

And crown him Lord of all. 

Crown him, ye morning stars of light, 
Who fixed this floating ball; 

Now hail the strength of Israel's might, 
And crown him Lord of all. 

Crown him, ye martyrs of our God, 

Who from his altar call ; 
Extol the stem of Jesse's rod, 

And crown him Lord of all. 

Ye chosen seed of Israel's race, 
Ye ransomed from the fall ; 

Hail him, who saves you by his grace, 
And crown him Lord of all. 

Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget 
The wormwood and the gall, 

Go, spread your trophies at his feet, 
And crown him Lord of all. 

Let every kindred, every tribe, 

On this terrestrial ball, 
To him all majesty ascribe, 

And crown him Lord of all. 

O ! that with yonder sacred throng, 

We at his feet may fall ; 
We '11 join the everlasting song, 

And crown him Lord of all. 



EDWARD PERRONET 
[i45] 




RAT PALMER (Little Compton, R. I., 
Nov. 12, 1808 — Newark, N. J., March 
2Q, 1887) was well known as a Congrega- 
tional pastor and as the secretary of the Con- 
gregational Union, He wrote this popular 
hymn when he was but twenty-two years old. 
He says that it was the expression of his own 
feelings at a time of great trouble. One year 
later Lowell Mason set it to the tune " Olivet" 
with which it has ever since been wedded. It 
has been translated into almost every dialect 
and tongue. Almost all church people know it 
by heart, and certainly all love it heartily. 



£'46 ] 



MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO THEE 



Mv faith looks up to thee, 
Thou Lamb of Calvary, 

Savior divine ! 
Now hear me while I pray, 
Take all my guilt away; 
O let me from this day 

Be wholly thine. 

May thy rich grace impart 
Strength to my fainting heart; 

My zeal inspire; 
As thou hast died for me, 
O may my love to thee 
Pure, warm, and changeless be, 

A living fire ! 

While life's dark maze I tread, 
And griefs around me spread, 

Be thou my guide ; 
Bid darkness turn to day, 
Wipe sorrow's tears away, 
Nor let me ever stray 

From thee aside. 

When ends life's transient dream, 
When death's cold, sullen stream 

Shall o'er me roll, 
Blest Savior ! then, in love, 
Fear and distress remove ; 
O bear me safe above, 

A ransomed soul. 



RAY PALMER 



['47] 



T^HIS hymn has been ascribed to many writ- 
ers and seldom to its true author. Yet the 
matter of its origin would easily have been 
settled by reference to a novel written several 
years ago, entitled "Dollars and Cents" where 
it first appeared in its original fonn. The 
writer of this story, answering an inquiry re- 
garding the hymn, writes, " It is certainly 
mine — so far as that can be said of anything 
which the Lord himself gives to our hearts to 
say or do. The hymn just grew up in a 
scene in a story I was writing, because I 
found nothing that just suited me." Miss 
Warner, who is perhaps better known as 
"Amy Lothrop," is the author of a number 
of stories. The hymn is sung to the beautiful 
setting of Mendelssohn s " Consolation." 



[i 4 8] 




CONSOLATION 



w, 



E would see Jesus ; for the shadows lengthen 
Across this little landscape of our life; 
We would see Jesus, our weak faith to strengthen 
For the last weariness, the final strife. 

We would see Jesus, the great rock foundation 
Whereon our feet were set with sovereign grace: 

Nor life nor death, with all their agitation, 
Can thence remove us, if we see his face. 

We would see Jesus : other lights are paling, 
Which for long years we have rejoiced to see; 

The blessings of our pilgrimage are failing : 

We would not mourn them, for we go to thee. 

We would see Jesus : yet the spirit lingers 
Round the dear objects it has loved so long, 

And earth from earth can scarce unclasp its ringers; 
Our love to thee makes not this love less strong. 

We would see Jesus : sense is all too binding, 
And heaven appears too dim, too far away; 

We would see thee, thyself our hearts reminding 
What thou hast suffered, our great debt to pay. 

We would see Jesus: this is all we're needing; 

Strength, joy, and willingness come with the sight; 
We would see Jesus, dying, risen, pleading; 

Then welcome day, and farewell mortal night. 



ANNA B . WARNER 




MARTIN LUTHER (Eisleben, Saxony, 
Nov. 10, 1483 — Eisleben, Feb. 18 \ 1546), 
was not only a great preacher, he was also a 
poet, the greatest of the German hymnists. As 
a poet he is best known by his " Ein Feste 
Burg" which is commonly called Luther s 
hymn. Heine calls it "The Marseillaise of 
the Reformation 99 ; it spread like wildfire every- 
where among the Protestants, being sung in the 
cottage, the workshop, and the congregation. 
Based on the Forty-Sixth Psalm, " God is our 
refuge and strength" and born in the supreme 
hour of Luther s great confict, it was one of 
the most potent forces of the Reformation. 
Something of the versatility of Luther is seen 
in the fact that the tune to which this hymn is 
always sung was also his composition. The 
translation was made by Frederick Henry 
Hedge, of Massachusetts, in the last century. 



[150] 



EIN FESTE BURG 



A MIGHTY fortress is our God, 

A bulwark never failing : 
Our helper he, amid the flood 

Of mortal ills prevailing. 
For still our ancient foe 
Doth seek to work his woe ; 
His craft and power are great, 
And armed with cruel hate, 

On earth is not his equal. 

Did we in our own strength confide, 
Our striving would be losing ; 

Were not the right man on our side, 
The man of God's own choosing. 

Dost ask who that may be ? 

Christ Jesus, it is he; 

Lord Sabaoth is his name, 

From age to age the same, 
And he must win the battle. 

And though this world, with devils filled, 

Should threaten to undo us; 
We will not fear, for God hath willed 

His truth to triumph through us. 
Let goods and . kindred go, 
This mortal life also : 
The body they may kill ; 
God's truth abideth still, 

His kingdom is forever. 



MARTIN LUTHER 



['Si] 



HENRY FRANC IS LTTE (Kelso, Scot- 
land, June I, — Nice, France, Nov. 20, 
18 4J ), poet and clergyman, early gave promise 
of a brilliant career ; but illness, intrigue, and 
misfortune seemed to beset him. His great 
hymns, however, grew out of these experiences. 
He says that, "scarce able to crawl," he went 
to his last communion at Brixham, and after 
the service, as the darkness gathered, he wrote 
this farewell hymn. To-day this hymn is 
found in almost all hymn books, and from the 
churches, the homes, from the forts and the men 
of war of both great English- speaking nations, 
its melody floats out on the Sabbath evening air. 



D«s*] 



ABIDE WITH ME 



A BIDE with me: fast falls the eventide; 
The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ! 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O, abide with me ! 

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word, 
But as thou dwell'st with thy disciples, Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me. 

I need thy presence every passing hour: 
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? 
Who like thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Thro' cloud and sunshine, O, abide with me ! 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away: 
Change and decay in all around I see; 

thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings; 
But kind and good, with healing in thy wings, 
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea ; 
Come, Friend of sinners, and abide with me ! 

1 fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless, 
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness; 
Where is Death's sting ? where, Grave, thy victory ? 
I triumph still, if thou abide with me. 

Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; 
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies ; 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee 

In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me ! 

/fib ^ 



HENRY FRANCIS LYTE 



THE Rev. John Marriott (Cottesbach, Eng- 
land, I J 80 — Broad Clyst, March ji, 1 8 2$), 
student at Rugby and at Christ Church, Ox- 
ford, private tutor in the family of the Duke 
of Buccleuch, and minister of the Episcopal 
church, was a man whose quiet, retired life 
would be miknown but for this one hymn. 
And few, indeed, of the many thousands who 
sing this inspiring song in the churches ever 
stop to ask as to its author. Tet it ranks as 
one of the greatest of the hymns, being used in 
the opening worship of churches all over the 
world. It was written probably about l8lj, 
and published in " Lyra Britannic a" in 1867 ; 
to-day it is found in every hymn book that 
makes any pretensions to completeness. 



[154] 



"LET THERE BE LIGHT" 

I , 



I HOU, whose almighty word 
Chaos and darkness heard, 

And took their flight, 
Hear us, we humbly pray ; 
And, where the gospel's day 
Sheds not its glorious ray, 

Let there be light. 

Thou, who didst come to bring 
On thy redeeming wing 

Healing and sight, 
Health to the sick in mind, 
Sight to the inly blind, 
O, now to all mankind 

Let there be light. 

Spirit of truth and love, 
Life-giving, holy dove, 

Speed forth thy flight; 
Move o'er the waters' face 
Bearing the lamp of grace, 
And in earth's darkest place 

Let there be light. 

Holy and blessed three, 
Glorious trinity, 

Wisdom, love, might ! 
Boundless as ocean's tide 
Rolling in fullest pride 
Through the world, far and wide, 

Let there be light. 



JOHN MARRIOTT 



['55] 




Charles weslet (Epworth, Eng- 
land, Dec. 18, I J 08 — London, March 2g, 
1788 ) was the younger brother of John 
Wesley, with whom he worked and preached. 
Charles is justly known as the poet of Method- 
ism, for he is the author of over six thousand 
hymns. " Jesus, Lover of My Soul," was 
originally entitled " Temptation," and is said to 
have been written immediately after a narrow 
escape from death by shipwreck. Henry Ward 
Bee c her said : " I would rather have written 
that hymn of Wesley's than to have the fame 
of all the kings that ever sat on earth." Its 
beautiful thought has become current in many 
tongues. It was one of the favorite songs of 
the Chinese Christians who perished in the 
Boxer uprising, many dying with it on their 
lips. 



['56] 



JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL 



While the billows near me roll, 

While the tempest still is high ; 
Hide me, O my Savior ! hide, 
Till the storm of life is past ; 
Safe into the haven guide ; 
O, receive my soul at last ! 

Other refuge have I none; 

Hangs my helpless soul on thee ; 
Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, 

Still support and comfort me. 
All my trust on thee is stayed ; 

All my help from thee I bring ; 
Cover my defenseless head 

With the shadow of thy wing. 

Thou, O Christ ! art all 1 want ; 

More than all in thee I find ; 
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, 

Heal the sick, and lead the blind. 
Just and holy is thy name, 

I am all unrighteousness ; 
Vile and full of sin I am, 

Thou art full of truth and grace. 

Plenteous grace with thee is found, 

Grace to pardon all my sin ; 
Let the healing streams abound, 

Make and keep me pure within ; 
Thou of life the fountain art, 

Freely let me take of thee ; 
Spring thou up within my heart, 

Rise to all eternity. 



CHARLES WESLEY 




ESUS ! lover of my soul, 
Let me to thy bosom fly, 



[i57] 



TjHE Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, D. D. 
(Lambeth, England, Oct. 30, 180J — Lincoln, 
March 20, 1885 ), bishop of Lincoln, was one 
of the foremost scholars of the Anglican Church 
in his day. He published in 1862 a volume 
of poems entitled " The Holy Tear," a collec- 
tion of pieces for the different days of the 
church year, which contained one hundred and 
twenty-seven hymns of his own composition. 
This was the first hymn in the book. It is 
quite generally used as a song of morning 
worship on Sundays. 



[158] 



DAY OF REST 



o 

DAY of rest and gladness, 

O day of joy and light, 
O balm of care and sadness, 

Most beautiful, most bright: 
On thee, the high and lowly, 

Through ages joined in tune, 
Sing "Holy, holy, holy," 

To the great God Triune. 

On thee, at the creation, 

The light first had its birth ; 
On thee, for our salvation, 

Christ rose from depths of earth; 
On thee, our Lord, victorious, 

The Spirit sent from heaven ; 
And thus on thee, most glorious 

A triple light was given. 

To-day on weary nations 

The heavenly manna falls ; 
To holy convocations 

The silver trumpet calls, 
Where gospel light is glowing 

With pure and radiant beams, 
And living water flowing 

With soul-refreshing streams. 

New graces ever gaining 

From this our day of rest, 
We reach the rest remaining 

To spirits of the blest ; 
To Holy Ghost be praises, 

To Father, and to Son ; 
The church her voice upraises 

To thee, blest Three in One. 



CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH 



C'59] 



GEORGE DUFFIELD (Carlisle, Pa., 
Sept. 12, 1818 — Bloomfield, N. J., July 6, 
1888) came of a family of American hymn 
writers. He was a Presbyterian pastor in 
Brooklyn, in Philadelphia, in Michigan, and 
in Illinois. He is buried in Detroit. The 
hymn for which, above all others, he is famous 
was the outcome of the Philadelphia revival of 
1858. It was written as the conclusion of a 
sermon, and it quickly found its way all over the 
English world, and into German, Latin, and 
other translations. The author says that he first 
met it, after its composition, as the favorite song 
of the army of the fames in 1864. 



[160] 



THE SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS 



StAND up ! stand up for Jesus ! 

Ye soldiers of the cross ! 
Lift high his royal banner, 

It must not suffer loss ; 
From victory unto victory 

His army shall he lead, 
Till every foe is vanquished, 

And Christ is Lord indeed. 

Stand up! stand up for Jesus ! 

The trumpet call obey; 
Forth to the mighty conflict, 

In this his glorious day ; 
"Ye that are men, now serve him," 

Against unnumbered foes ; 
Let courage rise with danger, 

And strength to strength oppose. 

Stand up ! stand up for Jesus ! 

Stand in his strength alone; 
The arm of flesh will fail you — 

Ye dare not trust your own ; 
Put on the gospel armor, 

And, watching unto prayer, 
Where duty calls, or danger, 

Be never wanting there. 

Stand up ! stand up for Jesus ! 

The strife will not be long ; 
This day, the noise of battle, 

The next, the victor's song ; 
To him that overcometh, 

A crown of life shall be ; 
He with the King of Glory 

Shall reign eternally ! 



GEORGE DUFFIELD 



[i6x] 



THE Rev. Carl Rudolph Hagenbach, D.D. 
(Basel, Switzerland, March 4, 180 1 — June 
/, 18 J 4 ), wrote this hymn in his own tongue 
somewhere about 1 8 40. The translator is un- 
known, but, whoever he may be, he has fairly 
well carried over the quaintness and the sense 
of peace and quietness in the original. Dr. 
Hagenbach co?nbined in himself the rare and 
seldom harmonious qualities of a successful 
professor of church history in the university 
of his native town and a poet of tender feel- 
ing. While this hymn is not used generally 
in congregational worship, it is well known 
and much used in smaller gatherings and for 
private devotions. 



[i6a] 



RE SIGNATION 



SlNCE thy father's arm sustains thee, 

Peaceful be ; 
When a chastening hand restrains thee, 

It is he ! 

Know his love in full completeness 
Fills the measure of thy weakness ; 
If he wound thy spirit sore, 
Trust him more. 

Without murmur, uncomplaining, 

In his hand 
Lay whatever things thou canst not 

Understand : 
Though the world thy folly spurneth, 
From thy faith in pity turneth, 
Peace thy inmost soul shall fill — 

Lying still. 

Fearest sometimes that thy father 

Hath forgot ? 
When the clouds around thee gather, 

Doubt him not ! 
Always hath the daylight broken — 
Always hath he comfort spoken — 
Better hath he been for years 

Than thy fears. 

To his own thy Savior giveth 

Daily strength ; 
To each troubled soul that liveth 

Peace at length : 
Weakest lambs have largest sharing 
Of this tender shepherd's caring; 
Ask him not, then — when or how — 

Only bow. 



CARL RUDOLPH HAGENBACH 



Altho UGH this well known and greatly 
loved hymn is frequently attributed to one 
" Kirkham," there is no reliable evidence as to 
its authorship. It first appeared in the " Selec- 
tion of Hymns from the Best Authors" com- 
piled by Dr. Rippon and published in l/S/. 
Here it was credited to " K" This, taken 
with the fact that George Keith, a London 
publisher, was the chorister of Dr. Rippon' s 
church, has led many to attribute the song to 
him. There is no doubt, however, as to the 
place occupied by this hymn; it is a classic, 
and judged by the spirit with which it is sung 
it is just as popular to-day as ever. The tune 
usually used with it is " Portuguese Hymn" 



[i6 4 ] 



THE FIRM FOUNDATION 



H OW firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord ! 
Is laid for your faith in his excellent word ! 
What more can he say, than to you he hath said — 
To you, who for refuge to Jesus have fled ? 

" Fear not, I am with thee, O, be not dismayed, 
For I am thy God, I will still give thee aid ; 
I '11 strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, 
Upheld by my gracious, omnipotent hand. 

" When through the deep waters I call thee to go, 
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow ; 
For I will be with thee thy trials to bless, 
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress. 

(t When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie, 
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply, 
The flame shall not hurt thee ; I only design 
Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine. 

" Ev'n down to old age all my people shall prove 
My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love ; 
And then, when gray hairs shall their temples adorn, 
Like lambs they shall still in my bosom be borne. 

" The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose, 
I will not, I will not desert to his foes : 
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, 
I '11 never — no, never — no, never forsake ! " 



ANONYMOUS 



[ l6 5] 



REGINALD HEBER (Malpas, Cheshire, 
April 21 , 1 78 J — Trichinopoly, India, April 
2, 1826 ), Anglican bishop of Calcutta and 
true poet, is the author of a number of standard 
hymns. He was a man of unusual attain- 
ments. His poem " Palestine," which made 
him prize poet of Brazenose, has been pro- 
nounced the best poem Oxford ever produced. 
His " Missionary Hymn " was written at the 
request of his father-in-law, who had to deliver 
a missionary sermon the next morning, and who 
had failed to find a suitable hymn for the 
service. It was then written as it has ever 
since been sung, and so admirably does it fit the 
theme that no missionary service is to-day com- 
plete without it. The tune to which it is 
always sung was one of Lowell Mason' s first 
compositions, and was also prepared upon re- 
quest, for this particular hymn. 



[166] 



"THE MISSIONARY HYMN' 



JL ROM Greenland's icy mountains, 

From India's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 

Roll down their golden sand — 
From many an ancient river, 
From many a palmy plain, 
They call us to deliver 

Their land from error's chain. 

What though the spicy breezes 

Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle ; 
Though every prospect pleases, 

And only man is vile ; 
In vain with lavish kindness 

The gifts of God are strown ; 
The heathen, in his blindness, 

Bows down to wood and stone ! 

Shall we, whose souls are lighted 

With wisdom from on high — 
Shall we, to men benighted, 

The lamp of life deny ? 
Salvation, O, Salvation ! 

The joyful sound proclaim, 
Till earth's remotest nation 

Has learned Messiah's name. 

Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, 

And you, ye waters, roll, 
Till, like a sea of glory, 

It spreads from pole to pole ; 
Till o'er our ransomed nature 

The Lamb for sinners slain, 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 

In bliss returns to reign ! 



BISHOP REGINALD HEBER 




I>7] 



J. HIS, the most poetic of all the Christmas 
hymns ; was written by an American, Edmund 
Hamilton Sears ( Sandisfield, Mass., April 6, 
1810 — Weston, Mass., Jan. 14, 1876 J. 
Its author was a Unitarian minister, a gradu- 
ate of Union College, Schenectady, and of the 
divinity school of Harvard. Although the 
hymn is comparatively new, being published in 
the "Christian Register" in 1850, it has be- 
come popular, and its use in church services at 
Christmas time is almost universal. Along 
with the older hymns it is sung as a carol on 
the streets in England and in the colonies on 
the last few nights before Christmas day. 



[168] 



THE A N G E L'S SONG 



It came upon the midnight clear, 

That glorious song of old, 
From angels bending near the earth 

To touch their harps of gold ; 
" Peace to the earth, good will to man, 

From heaven's all gracious king" : 
The earth in solemn stillness lay, 

To hear the angels sing. 

Still through the cloven skies they come, 

With peaceful wings unfurled ; 
And still celestial music floats 

O'er all the weary world; 
Above its sad and lowly plains 

They bend on heavenly wing, 
And ever o'er its Babel sounds, 

The blessed angels sing. 

O ye, beneath life's crushing load, 

Whose forms are bending low, 
Who toil along the climbing way, 

With painful steps and slow — 
Look up ! for glad and golden hours 

Come swiftly on the wing ; 
O, rest beside the weary road, 

And hear the angels sing ! 

For lo ! the days are hastening on, 

By prophet bards foretold, 
When with the ever circling years 

Come round the age of gold ! 
When peace shall over all the earth 

Its final splendors fling, 
And the whole world send back the song 

Which now the angels sing ! 



EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS 



ThIS is another of the popular hymns of that 
great writer of religious lyrics, Reginald Heber, 
missionary bishop and poet. Many have re- 
marked the paucity of Christian hymns of action, 
suited to the feelings of men. This hy?nn, there- 
fore, with its direct appeal to the motor tempera- 
ment, is worthy of special notice, for on this 
account it has always been popular with young 
men. In college chapel it is probably used more 
frequently than any other hymn, while in all 
services it is a familiar processional and a great 
favorite with the people. 



[i 7 o] 



THE NOBLE ARMY 



JL HE Son of God goes forth to war, 
A kingly crown to gain. 
His blood-red banner streams afar : 

Who follows in his train ? 
Who best can drink his cup of woe, 

Triumphant over pain ; 
Who patient bears his cross below, 
He follows in his train. 

The martyr first, whose eagle eye 

Could pierce beyond the grave, 
Who saw his Master in the sky, 

And called on him to save. 
Like him, with pardon on his tongue, 

In midst of mortal pain, 
He prayed for them that did the wrong : 

Who follows in his train ? 

A glorious band, the chosen few 

On whom the Spirit came, 
Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew 

And mocked the cross and flame. 
They met the tyrant's brandished steel, 

The lion's gory mane ; 
They bowed their necks the death to feel ! 

Who follows in their train ? 

A noble army, men and boys, 

The matron and the maid, 
Around the Savior's throne rejoice, 

In robes of light arrayed. 
They climbed the steep ascent of heaven 

Through peril, toil, and pain. 
O God, to us may grace be given 

To follow in their train. 



BISHOP REGINALD HEBER 




PHILLIPS BROOKS (Boston, Dec. 13, 
1835 — Jan. 23, 1893), was more than the 
bishop of the Episcopal diocese of Massachu- 
setts ; he was the bishop of the whole Ameri- 
can people. They have not yet ceased to grieve 
for him. Perhaps admiration of the author s 
personality has not a little to do with the pop- 
ularity of this poem. It was written for the 
use of Trinity Sunday-school, about 1880, and 
sent out anonymously \ But the people soon 
found it out. Though evidently intended as a 
Christmas hymn, it is used at other times, and 
may be counted as one of the few new hymns 
that have taken their place along with the old 
ones. It is already found in all the standard 
collections of church hymns, as well as in many 
of those of less permanent character. 



[17*] 



BETHLEHEM 



O LITTLE town of Bethlehem, 

How still we see thee lie ! 
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, 

The silent stars go by ; 
Yet in thy dark streets shineth 

The everlasting light; 
The hopes and fears of all the years 

Are met in thee to-night. 

For Christ is born of Mary, 

And gathered all above 
While mortals sleep the angels keep 

Their watch of wondering love. 
O morning stars, together 

Proclaim the holy birth ! 
And praises sing to God the King, 

And peace to men on earth. 

How silently, how silently, 

The wondrous gift is given ! 
So God imparts to human hearts 

The blessings of his heaven. 
No ear may hear his coming, 

But in this world of sin, 
Where meek souls will receive him still, 

The dear Christ enters in. 

O holy child of Bethlehem ! 

Descend to us, we pray ; 
Cast out our sin, and enter in, 

Be born in us to-day. 
We hear the Christmas angels 

The great glad tidings tell ; 
O, come to us, abide with us, 

Our Lord Immanuel ! 



PHILLIPS BROOKS 



[173] 



Almost nothing is known of Bernard, 
save that he was a monk at the old abbey of 
Cluny, France, in the twelfth century, and 
that he wrote a poem entitled " De Contemptu 
Mundi," in which there occur the stanzas 
from which this hy?nn and several others were 
translated. Dr. John M. Neale (London, 
June 24, 18 18 — East Grinstead, Aug. 6, 
1866 ), as the translator, deserves much of the 
credit for the great popularity of this hymn. 
The vigor and freedom of his version may be 
judged by comparison with the first lines of 
the Latin original: 

" Urbs Syon aurea, patria lactea, cive decora, 
Omne cor obrius, omnibus obstruis, et cor et ora, 
Nescio, nescio, quae jubilatio lux tibi qualis, 
Quam socialia guadia, gloria quam specialis." 



[i74] 



JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN 



Jerusalem, the golden, 

With milk and honey blest ! 
Beneath thy contemplation 

Sink heart and voice oppressed ; 
I know not, O, I know not 

What joys await me there ; 
What radiancy of glory, 

What bliss beyond compare. 

They stand, those halls of Zion, 

All jubilant with song, 
And bright with many an angel, 

And all the martyr throng ; 
The Prince is ever in them, 

The daylight is serene ; 
The pastures of the blessed 

Are decked in glorious sheen. 

There is the throne of David ; 

And there from care released, 
The song of them that triumph, 

The shout of them that feast ; 
And they, who with their leader 

Have conquered in the fight, 
Forever and forever 

Are clad in robes of white. 

O sweet and blessed country, 

Shall I e'er see thy face ? 
O sweet and blessed country, 

Shall I e'er win thy grace? 
Exult, O dust and ashes, 

The Lord shall be thy part ; 
His only, his forever 

Thou shalt be and thou art. 



BERNARD OF CLUNY AND JOHN M. NEAL 
[175] 




T^HE authorship of this celebrated hymn 
will probably remain forever unknown. It is 
the most ancient Christian hymn of any length \ 
coming to us, through the Latin, from a very 
early Greek original. 



[i 7 6] 



We praise thee, O God j we acknowledge thee to be the 
Lord. 

All the earth doth worship thee, the Father everlasting. 
To thee all angels cry aloud, the heavens, and all the powers 
therein. 

To thee cherubim and seraphim continually do cry, Holy, holy, 
holy, Lord God of Sabaoth ; 

Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of thy glory. The 
glorious company of the apostles praise thee. The goodly fellow- 
ship of the prophets praise thee. 

The noble army of martyrs praise thee. The holy church 
throughout all the world doth acknowledge thee, 

The Father of an infinite majesty ; thine adorable, true and 
only Son ; 

Also the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. Thou art the King of 
glory, O Christ, thou art the everlasting Son of the Father. 

When thou tookest upon thee to deliver man, thou didst humble 
thyself to be born of a virgin. 

When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, thou didst 
open the kingdom of heaven to all believers. 

Thou sittest at the right hand of God, in the glory of the Father. 
We believe that thou shalt come to be our judge. 

We therefore pray thee, help thy servants, whom thou hast re- 
deemed with thy precious blood. 

Make them to be numbered with thy saints, in glory everlasting. 

O Lord, save thy people, and bless thine heritage ; govern them 
and lift them up forever. 

Day by day we magnify thee 5 and we worship thy name ever, 
world without end. 

Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin ; O Lord, 
have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us ; 

O Lord, let thy mercy be upon us, as our trust is in thee. 

O Lord, in thee have I trusted ; let me never be confounded. 
Amen. 




T'lIE famous American poet and reformer has 
made no small contribution to the songs of wor- 
ship and praise used in the churches. This 
hymn is taken from his longer poem entitled 
" The Brewing of Soma" It was published 
first for church worship in 1884, and has 
grown steadily into general use despite much 
opposition and criticism, once bitter , but now 
almost forgotten, regarding the poet's alleged 
heterodox beliefs. There is to-day a marked 
tendency to give larger prominence to the work 
of the great poets in the hymnody of the 
churches. 



E'78] 



THE WAY OF PEACE 



D EAR Lord and Father of mankind, 

Forgive our feverish ways ! 
Reclothe us in our rightful mind $ 
In purer lives thy service find, 

In deeper reverence, praise. 

In simple trust like theirs who heard, 

Beside the Syrian sea, 
The gracious calling of the Lord, 
Let us, like them, without a word, 

Rise up and follow thee. 

O Sabbath rest by Galilee ! 

O calm of hills above, 
Where Jesus knelt to share with thee 
The silence of eternity, 

Interpreted by love! 

With that deep hush subduing all, 
Our words and works that drown 

The tender whisper of thy call, 

As noiseless let thy blessings fall 
As fell thy manna down. 

Drop thy still dews of quietness, 

Till all our strivings cease: 
Take from our souls the strain and stress, 
And let our ordered lives confess 

The beauty of thy peace. 

Breathe through the heats of our desire 

Thy coolness and thy balm 5 
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire: 
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire, 

O still small voice of calm! 



JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 



[""'79] 




Next to " Jesus, Lover of My Soul" this 
is accounted the most popular of Charles Wes- 
ley's hymns. Certainly no other hymn is so 
frequently sung at Christmas time, and few 
things have as strong a charm or make a 
deeper impression than the sound of this hymn 
as it is sung in the crisp winter air by the 
people of the village choir as they stand in 
the streets of England, just before Christmas. 



[180] 



CHRISTMAS CAROL 



1 1 ARK ! the herald angels sing, 
" Glory to the new-born King ; 
Peace on earth and mercy mild ; 
God and sinners reconciled." 
Joyful, all ye nations, rise, 
Join the triumph of the skies j 
With angelic hosts proclaim, 
" Christ is born in Bethlehem.'" 
Hark ! the herald angels sing, 
" Glory to the new-born King. 1 ' 

Christ, by highest heaven adored, 
Christ, the everlasting Lord : 
Late in time behold him come, 
Offspring of a virgin's womb. 
Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see, 
Hail the incarnate Deity ! 
Pleased as man with men to appear, 
Jesus, our Immanuel here. 

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace ! 
Hail the Sun of righteousness ! 
Light and life to all he brings, 
Risen with healing in his wings : 
Mild he lays his glory by, 
Born that man no more may die j 
Born to raise the sons of earth ; 
Born to give them second birth. 

Come, Desire of nations, come ! 
Fix in us thy humble home : 
Rise, the woman's conquering seed, 
Bruise in us the serpent's head ; 
Adam's likeness now efface, 
Stamp thine image in its place : 
Second Adam from above, 
Reinstate us in thy love. 



CHARLES WESLEY 



[Hi] 



ThIS hymn represents Charles Wesley at 
his best, and it is everywhere one of the best 
loved of his many writings. It is given here 
as he wrote it, and not as singers have insisted 
on amending it. Like the writer s beautiful 
" Jesus, Lover of My Soul," it belongs to con- 
gregations of almost all creeds and in all lands. 
It was published in If 47* 



[182] 



LOVE DIVINE 



1 y QVE divine, all loves excelling, 

Joy of heaven, to earth come down } 
Fix in us thy humble dwelling, 

All thy faithful mercies crown : 
Jesus, thou art all compassion, 

Pure, unbounded love thou art j 
Visit us with thy salvation, 
Enter every trembling heart. 

Breathe, O, breathe thy loving spirit 

Into every troubled breast! 
Let us all in thee inherit, 

Let us find that second rest : 
Take away our bent to sinning ; 

Alpha and Omega be ; 
End of faith, as its beginning, 

Set our hearts at liberty. 

Come, almighty to deliver, 

Let us all thy grace receive ; 
Suddenly return, and never, 

Never more thy temples leave : 
Thee we would be always blessing, 

Serve thee as thy hosts above, 
Pray, and praise thee without ceasing, 

Glory in thy perfect love. 

Finish then thy new creation, 

Pure and spotless let us be j 
Let us see thy great salvation, 

Perfectly restored in thee : 
Changed from glory into glory, 

Till in heaven we take our place, 
Till we cast our crowns before thee, 

Lost in wonder, love, and praise. 



CHARLES WESLEY 




Dean ALFORD was known to all the 
students of a past generation for his great work, 
" The Greek New Testament, with Notes'' If 
that book has ceased to have its preeminence, 
his hymns have, on the other hand, strengthened 
their hold on the affections of this generation. 
This hymn, published in 1866, received his 
most careful work, and stands as the best rep- 
resentative of his poetic power. It was sung 
by his graveside, in the yard without Can- 
terbury Cathedral, where he had been so 
long Dean, at the time of his burial in 
iS/I. J. B. Dykes composed the tune, called 
«Alfordr 



L184] 



THE ARMIES OF THE RANSOMED 



JL EN thousand times ten thousand, 

In sparkling raiment bright, 
The armies of the ransomed saints 

Throng up the steeps of light: 
' T is finished, all is finished, 

Their fight with death and sin: 
Fling open wide the golden gates, 

And let the victors in. 

What rush of hallelujahs 

Fills all the earth and sky ! 
What ringing of a thousand harps 

Bespeaks the triumph nigh ! 
O day, for which creation 

And all its tribes were made ! 
O joy, for all its former woes 

A thousand-fold repaid ! 

O, then what raptured greetings 

On Canaan's happy shore ! 
What knitting severed friendships up, 

Where partings are no more ! 
Then eyes with joy shall sparkle, 

That brimmed with tears of late, 
Orphans no longer fatherless, 

Nor widows desolate. 

Bring near thy great salvation, 

Thou Lamb for sinner slain j 
Fill up the roll of thine elect, 

Then take thy power, and reign ; 
Appear, Desire of nations — 

Thine exiles long for home — 
Show in the heaven thy promised sign ; 

Thou Prince and Savior, come ! 



HENRY ALFORD 



[1*5] 



Abo UT no hymn writer have there been 
greater differences of opinion than about Fred- 
erick William Faber ( Calverley Vicarage, 
Yorkshire, June 28, 1814. — London, Sept. 
26, 186 3 ). The conclusion of the whole 
matter is seen, however, in the growing popu- 
larity of his work. This gifted Catholic has 
given to all Christendom a number of beautiful 
and popular hymns. " The Pilgrims of the 
Night" appeared in 1854. It is the best 
known of Faber s hymns in the United States, 
while in England his ' ' Paradise " holds first 
place. The former has been fortunate in that 
some beautiful melodies, notably " Vox Angel- 
ica" by J. B. Dykes, have been composed 
especially for it. 



[186] 



THE PILGRIMS OF THE NIGHT 



HaRK, hark, my soul ! angelic songs are swelling 
O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore : 

How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling 
Of that new life when sin shall be no more. 

Refrain — Angels of Jesus, angels of light, 
Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. 

Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, 
Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come ; 

And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, 
The music of the gospel leads us home. 

Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, 
The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea, 

And laden souls, by thousands meekly stealing, 
Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to thee. 

Rest comes at length ; though life be long and dreary, 
The day must dawn, and darksome night be past $ 

Faith's journey ends in welcome to the weary, 

And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last. 

Angels ! sing on, your faithful watches keeping ; 

Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above j 
Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, 

And life's long shadows break in cloudless love. 



FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER 



['87] 



T^HE Rev. yokn Ernest Bode was a rector 
of the Church of England, born in 1816 and 
dying in 1874. His life was spent in his 
parish duties and in writing several volumes 
both of prose and of poetry. This hymn first 
appeared as one of his poems. The relative 
popularity of the hymn in England as com- 
pared with the United States is indicative of 
a fact often overlooked, that the place of a 
hymn depends much on the tune with which it 
is associated. In the former country it is 
always sung to the beautiful setting by J. W. 
Elliot, while in the latter no particular tune 
has been commonly assigned to it. 



[188] 



A DISCIPLE'S PRAYER 



JESUS, I have promised, 
To serve thee to the end ,• 

Be thou forever near me, 
My Master and my Friend! 

1 shall not fear the battle, 
If thou art by my side, 

Nor wander from the pathway, 
If thou wilt be my Guide. 

O, let me feel thee near me — 

The world is ever near ; 
I see the sights that dazzle, 

The tempting sounds I hear. 
My foes are ever near me, 

Around me and within 5 
But, Jesus, draw thou nearer, 

And shield my soul from sin. 

O Jesus, thou hast promised 

To all who follow thee, 
That where thou art in glory, 

There shall thy servant be ; 
And, Jesus, I have promised 

To serve thee to the end } 
O, give me grace to follow 

My Master and my Friend. 

O, let me see thy footmarks, 

And in them plant mine own, 
My hope to follow duly 

Is in thy strength alone. 
O, guide me, call me, draw me, 

Uphold me to the end j 
And then in heaven receive me, 

My Savior and my Friend. 



JOHN ERNEST BODE 



[189] 



jflJLIA WARD HOWE (New York, 
May 2J, 18 ig ) deserves fame for many other 
things, — for poems, essays, lectures, and works 
of philanthropy, — but she will always be known 
to the greater number as the writer of the 
great " Marseillaise " of the federal armies. 
While on a visit, in 1 86 1, to the army encamped 
near Washington she wrote the stirring lines, 
basing them on the old "John Brown" melody. 
This can never become a great international 
hymn, but it will always be well loved by the 
American people. It is interesting to note the 
pleasure of a church congregation when they 
are afforded an opportunity to join in singing 
as a hymn the song so many of their fathers 
sang on the field. 



[190] 



BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC 




Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible quick sword : 
His truth is marching on. 

CHORUS 

Glory, glory, hallelujah ! 

Glory, glory, hallelujah ! 

Glory, glory, hallelujah ! 

His truth is marching on. 

I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps ; 
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps ; 
I have read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps $ 
His day is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel : 
" As ye deal with my contemners so with you my grace shall deal ; 
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, 
Since God is marching en."" 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat. 
O, be swift, my soul, to answer him ! Be jubilant, my feet : 
Our God is marching on. 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me ; 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on. 



SARAH FLOWER ADAMS (Great 
Harlow, England, Feb. 22, 1 8 05 — London, 
August, 1848 ) is the author of the hymn 
which is the best known of all those written 
by women. Though written as recently as 
1840, this hymn stands amongst the foremost 
in the list of the ten great hymns of the 
Christian church. In the United States it 
would be impossible to find a hymnal from 
which it is omitted. This may be due, in part, 
to the tune to which it was set by the father 
of American church music, Dr. Lowell Mason. 
Written by an Englishwoman, this hy?nn has 
been carried to all parts of the world by 
American travellers, and American mission- 
aries have translated it into the tongues of the 
strange tribes in all lands. 



[192] 



NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE 



X^l EARER, my God, to thee, 

Nearer to thee, 
E'en though it be a cross 

That raiseth me j 
Still all my song shall be, 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 
Nearer to thee. 



Though like the wanderer, 
The sun gone down, 

Darkness be over me, 
My rest a stone ; 

Yet in my dreams I'd be 

Nearer, my God, to thee, 
Nearer to thee. 



There let the way appear 
Steps unto heaven ; 

All that thou sendest me, 
In mercy given j 

Angels to beckon me 

Nearer, my God, to thee, 
Nearer to thee. 



Then, with my waking thoughts 
Bright with thy praise, 

Out of my stony griefs 
Bethel I '11 raise ; 

So by my woes to be 

Nearer, my God, to thee, 
Nearer to thee. 



Or if on joyful wing, 

Cleaving the sky, 
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, 

Upward I fly, 
Still all my song shall be, 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 

Nearer to thee. 



SARAH FLOWER ADAMS 




Anna laetitia waring was 

born at Neath, Glamorganshire, Wales, where 
she still lives the quiet life of a Quakeress. 
She has written many beautiful hymns, o?ie of 
the best known being " In Heavenly Love 
Abiding" But in the past few years this 
hymn of simple faith and desire for the quieter 
ways of life has become by far the most fre- 
quently used. This may be because more are 
seeking the path beside the still waters. 



[^94] 



THE SIMPLE WAY 



FaTHER, I know that all my life 

Is portioned out for me ; 
The changes that are sure to come 

I do not fear to see ; 
I ask thee for a present mind 

Intent on pleasing thee. 

I ask thee for a thoughtful love, 
Through constant watching wise, 

To meet the glad with joyful smiles, 
And wipe the weeping eyes ; 

A heart at leisure from itself, 
To soothe and sympathize. 

I would not have the restless will 

That hurries to and fro, 
Seeking for some great thing to do, 

Or sacred thing to know ; 
I would be treated as a child, 

And guided where I go. 

Wherever in the world I am, 
In whatsoe'er estate, 

I have a fellowship with hearts 
To keep and cultivate : 

A work of lowly love to do 
For him on whom I wait. 

I ask thee for the daily strength, 

To none that ask denied, 
A mind to blend with outward life, 

While keeping at thy side j 
Content to fill a little space, 

If thou be glorified. 

In service which thy love appoints 
There are no bonds for me j 

My secret heart is taught the truth 
That makes thy children free: 

A life of self-renouncing love 
Is one of liberty. 



ANNA L A E T I T I A W A R I N G 



['95] 




Samuel john stone (Whitmore, 

England, April 25, l8jg), a clergyman of 
the English established church, is the author of 
several beautiful hymns, although none of them 
approaches this one in general popularity. In- 
deed, " The One Foundation " might well be 
called the world' s anthem of toleration, and the 
best expression in song of the rapidly growing 
sense of religious unity. It is a remarkable 
thing that a hymn written by a high churchman 
should serve this liberal purpose. It is sung 
wherever Christians of differing names and 
creeds meet together, and probably it has done 
more to bring the many bodies of Christendom 
together than all the sermons preached with 
that aim. 



[196] 



I THE ONE FOUNDATION 



T 

A HE church's one foundation 

Is Jesus Christ, her Lord ; 
She is his new creation 

By water and the word. 
From heaven he came and sought her 

To be his holy bride j 
With his own blood he bought her, 

And for her life he died. 

Elect from every nation 

Yet one o'er all the earth, 
Her charter of salvation 

One Lord, one faith, one birth ; 
One holy name she blesses, 

Partakes one holy food, 
And to one hope she presses, 

With every grace endued. 

Though with a scornful wonder, 

Men see her sore opprest, 
By schisms rent asunder, 

By heresies distrest j 
Yet saints their watch are keeping, 

Their cry goes up, " How long ? " 
And soon the night of weeping 

Shall be the morn of song. 

'Mid toil and tribulation, 

And tumult of her war, 
She waits the consummation 

Of peace for evermore ; 
Till with the vision glorious 

Her longing eyes are blest, 
And the great church victorious 

Shall be the church at rest. 

Yet she on earth hath union 

With God, the Three in One, 
And mystic sweet communion 

With those whose rest is won ; 
O happy ones and holy ! 

Lord, give us grace that we 
Like them, the meek and lowly, 

On high may dwell with thee. 



SAMUEL JOHN STONE 



[i97] 




compositions. It was written to be sung on 
Ascension Sunday. In the opinion of many 
this is Wordsworth 's finest work in hymnody ; 
at all events, it is popular in the churches. 



[i 9 8] 



THE ASCENDING KING 



See the conqueror mounts in triumph ; 

See the king in royal state, 
Riding on the clouds, his chariot, 

To his heavenly palace gate ! 
Hark ! the choirs of angel voices 

Joyful alleluias sing, 
And the portals high are lifted 

To receive their heavenly king. 

Who is this that comes in glory, 

With the trump of jubilee ? 
Lord of battles, God of armies, 

He hath gained the victory. 
He who on the cross did suffer, 

He who from the grave arose, 
He has vanquished sin and Satan ; 

He by death has spoiled his foes. 

Thou hast raised our human nature, 

On the clouds to God's right hand ; 
There we sit in heavenly places, 

There with thee in glory stand j 
Jesus reigns, adored by angels ; 

Man with God is on the throne ; 
Mighty Lord ! in thine ascension, 

We by faith behold our own. 

Lift us up from earth to heaven, 

Give us wings of faith and love, 
Gales of holy aspirations, 

Wafting us to realms above ; 
That, with hearts and minds uplifted, 

We with Christ our Lord may dwell, 
Where he sits enthroned in glory, 

In the heavenly citadel. 

So at last, when he appeareth, 

We from out our graves may spring, 
With our youth renewed like eagles', 

Flocking round our heavenly king, 
Caught up on the clouds of heaven, 

And may meet him in the air — 
Rise to realms where he is reigning, 

And may reign forever there. 



CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH 



[i99] 



SABINE BARING-GOULD (Exeter, 
England, Jan. 28, 18J4), an English clergy- 
man, novelist, antiquarian, and the writer of 
a number of well known hymns, was a Cam- 
bridge man, graduating from Clare College in 
1856. In the comparatively short time since 
this hymn was written, in 1865, it has become 
world famous, and to-day it would rank, in 
frequency of use, with the greatest of the hymns. 
Its popularity is probably due, in part, to the 
fact that it is one of the few martial songs 
suitable to church worship ; and, in no small 
degree, to the ringing tune which Sir Arthur 
Sullivan composed for it in 18 J 2. English 
soldiers often sing it on the march, whole regi- 
ments taking up the strains, and it has been 
translated into many foreign tongues. 



ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS 



NWARD, Christian soldiers, 
Marching as to war, 
With the cross of Jesus, 

Going on before. 
Christ, the royal Master, 
Leads against the foe j 
Forward into battle, 
See, his banners go. 

Refrain — Onward, Christian soldiers, 



Going on before. 

Like a mighty army, 

Moves the church of God ; 
Brothers, we are treading 

Where the saints have trod j 
We are not divided, 

All one body we, 
One in hope and doctrine, 

One in charity. 



Crowns and thrones may perish, 
Kingdoms rise and wane, 



Constant will remain ; 
Gates of hell can never 

'Gainst that church prevail; 
We have Christ's own promise, 
And that cannot fail. 



Onward, then, ye people, 



In the triumph song ; 
Glory, laud, and honor, 

Unto Christ the King ; 
This through countless ages, 
Men and angels sing. 



SABINE BARING-GOULD 




Marching as to war, 
With the cross of Jesus, 



But the church of Jesus 



Join our happy throng, 
Blend with ours your voices 



[201 ] 



■ 



Many look on this as the finest piece of 
work by Bishop How. It consisted originally 
of eleven stanzas, the eight given here being 
those most commonly used in worship. It was 
written about 1864. 



j] 202 2 



THE VICTORIOUS ARMY 



It^ OR. all the saints who from their labors rest, 
Who thee by faith before the world confessed, 
Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blessed. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 

Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might j 
Thou, Lord, their captain in the well fought fight j 
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true light. 
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 

O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold, 
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old, 
And win with them the victor's crown of gold. 
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 

O blest communion, fellowship divine ! 
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine ; 
Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, 
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song, 
And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. 
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 

The golden evening brightens in the west ; 
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes thy rest j 
Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 

But lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day ; 
The saints triumphant rise in bright array ; 
The King of Glory passes on his way. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast, 
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host, 
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 

" Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! " 



WILLIAM WALSHAM HOW 



[203 J 



WllILE James W. Alexander (Hopewell, 
Va. 9 March ij, 1 8 04 — Red Sweet Springs, 
Va., July Jl, 185 Q ) deserves much credit for 
his sympathetic rendering of this hymn, its 
authorship goes back to Bernard of Clairvaux 
(lOgi—IIJj), the outstanding ecclesiastical 
figure of the second crusade, a great poet, a 
great politician, and a mighty power in his 
day. In l6j6 Paul Gerhardt translated these 
stanzas of Bernard' s longer hymn into Ger- 
man, and since then it has been one of the best 
known hymns of that people. In 1829 Dr. 
Alexander prepared his translation, but it was 
not given to the public until twenty years later. 
The gifted translator was for many years the 
pastor of the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian church 
in New York. 



[204] 



O SACRED HEAD 



o SACRED head, now wounded, 

With grief and shame weighed down, 
Now scornfully surrounded 

With thorns, thine only crown ; 
O sacred head, what glory, 

What bliss, till now was thine ! 
Yet, though despised and gory, 

I joy to call thee mine. 

What thou, my Lord, hast suffered 

Was all for sinners' gain ; 
Mine, mine was the transgression, 

But thine the deadly pain. 
Lo, here I fall, my Savior ! . 

'T is I deserve thy place ; 
Look on me with thy favor,, 

Vouchsafe to me thy grace. 

The joy can ne'er be spoken 

Above all joys beside, 
When in thy body broken 

I thus with safety hide. 
My Lord of life, desiring 

Thy glory now to see, 
Beside thy cross expiring, 

I'd breathe my soul to thee. 

What language shall I borrow 

To praise thee, heavenly Friend, 
For this, thy dying sorrow, 

Thy pity without end 
Lord, make me thine forever, 

Nor let me faithless prove; 
O, let me never, never, 

Abuse such dying love. 

Forbid that I should leave thee ; 

O Jesus, leave not me ! 
By faith I would receive thee ; 

Thy blood can make me free ! 
When strength and comfort languish 

And 1 must hence depart, 
Release me then from anguish 

By thine own wounded heart. 

Be near when I am dying, 

O ! show thy cross to me ! 
And for my succor flying, 

Come, Lord, to set me free ! 
These eyes, new faith receiving, 

From Jesus shall not move; 
For he who dies believing, 

Dies safely — through thy love. 



BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 



0°5] 



Fried rich rudolph ludwig, 

Baron von Canitz ( l6^4~-l6gg ), is the author 
of this beautiful hymn, which, even in the ab- 
breviated form in which it usually is printed, 
is little known in this country. The transla- 
tion was made by the Rev. Henry James 
BuckrolL 



[ 206] 



MORNING ASPIRATION 



CoME, my soul, thou must be waking — 
Now is breaking 

O'er the earth another day; 
Come to him who made this splendor — 
See thou render 

All thy feeble powers can pay. 

From the stars thy course be learning; 
Dimly burning, 

'Neath the sun their light grows pale; 
So let all that sense delighted, 
While benighted 
From God's presence, fade and fail. 
Lo ! how all of breath partaking, 
Gladly waking, 

Hail the sun's enlivening light ! 
Plants, whose life mere sap doth nourish, 
Rise and flourish 
When he breaks the shades of night. 

Thou, too, hail the light returning — 
Ready burning 

Be the incense of thy powers ; 
For the night is safely ended — 
God had tended, 

With his care, thy helpless hours. 

Pray that he may prosper ever 
Each endeavor, 

When thine aim is good and true ; 
But that he may ever thwart thee 
And convert thee, 

When thou evil wouldst pursue. 

Think that he thy ways beholdeth — 
He unfoldeth 

Every fault that lurks within ; 
Every stain of shame gloss'd over 
Can discover, 

And discern each deed of sin. 

Only God's free gifts abuse not, 
His light refuse not, 

But still bis spirit's voice obey; 
Soon shall joy thy brow be wreathing, 
Splendor breathing, 

Fairer than the fairest day. 

If aught of care this morn oppress tbee, 
To him address thee, 

Who, like the sun, is good to all ; 
He gilds the mountain tops, the while 
His gracious smile 

Will on the humblest valley fall. 

Round tbee gifts his bounty showers; 
Walls and towers, 

Girt with flames, tby God shall rear ; 
Angel legions to defend thee ; 
Shall attend thee — 

Hosts whom Satan's self shall fear. 



BARON VON CANITZ 



[207] 



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